


Strung Out By Your Temptation

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M, PWP, Twincest, bottom!Tom, slight kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You like it," Bill concluded, eyeing him from beneath a demure fringe of lashes. "You need it. And we're doing it my way – starting now."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes Tom enjoys a bit of role reversal...in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Agony and Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> This is all for the incomparable ma_chelle, who has been the best, most constant, speedy, encouraging, steady, high-standard beta reader a twin-loving author could ask for. And she's a lovely person and friend as well.
> 
> So the only opinion that matters is hers, and anything else is icing on the sexy cake!
> 
> This story is **SERIOUS BUSINESS BOTTOM TOM** , if that is not your cuppa, you may wish to avert your eyes. 
> 
> Banner by ninaelisabeth, who is professional, quick, and a sweetheart to boot.

"You're crazy," Tom stated in response to Bill's blunt proposal. Long fine-boned fingers tapped out a tattoo borne of anxiety against one baggy jean-clad leg. When he'd put the delicately-phrased request to his twin, he had never expected this kind of response.

Bill surprised him with a burst of laughter. "I'm crazy? I'm not the one who wants to jump right in after a long hiatus from...you know." He shook his head, biting his lip and regarding Tom thoughtfully. "No. Do you want this, Tom?" He leaned back, hooking an arm over one side of the kitchen chair. He was dressed down while it was still early in their day and they were alone in the house together, the skin around his mouth and chin brushed with the dark hint of stubble.

Tom grabbed his empty coffee mug and stared into its depths, his cheeks heating up. It was difficult for Tom to be blunt and honest about this one thing, though there were no secrets between them. He wished that Bill could read his intention for this, as he did with most things, and _do_ it.

"Tom," Bill said, making Tom raise his head and blink over at his twin. "You're going to need to _tell_ me, this time. It's too important to get this one wrong. Do you want it, or not?"

Looking down at his hands as he mumbled an affirmative, Tom's face got so hot he knew Bill had to be seeing the color rise in his skin. He fitted his fingers around the coffee mug and turned it between his hands.

"Then we're doing this my way," Bill stated. "Starting today, and going over the next three days."

Tom's head snapped up again. "But...during the GQ shoot?"

"Absolutely during the GQ shoot," Bill said, lips curving in a smirk that rode the line between mirthful and merciless.

"I...I don't think..." Tom stammered, beginning to reconsider his request.

“I think you'll enjoy it,” Bill rode over the beginnings of his hesitant protest. “Come on, Tom. When have you ever not enjoyed what we've done together, when I've taken charge?” He regarded Tom over the rim of his coffee mug with thoughtful brown eyes.

“Well...” Tom began, dredging through his brain for instances. This craving was still new to him – he'd always thought their roles would be fixed, until he tried it partly out of curiosity, partly to shut Bill up. After enjoying it way more than he'd thought he would, the desire for Bill to top him, to _dom_ him, essentially, crept into him more insidious and undeniable than he ever would have thought.

They hadn't done it many times, Bill taking charge like that. Tom loved to fuck his Bill; Bill loved to take Tom into his body. It was the established natural order of things.

Sometimes, though, turning their world on its axis was inevitable...and amazing.

“You like it,” Bill concluded, eyeing him from beneath a demure fringe of lashes. “You need it. And we're doing it my way – starting now.”

“Wait, what?” Tom yelped. He'd been mentally prepared for actual sex, but for what Bill was proposing – no way. He needed to work himself up to it. Bill had already said today, but the reality of that hadn't quite sunk in.

Bill's devious smile put in an appearance. “Got plans?”

“Some?” Tom ventured. “Come on, you can't...you can't make me walk the dogs after you've...” He trailed off uneasily, knowing Bill could, in all likelihood, make Tom walk the dogs in a state of discomfited arousal.

Bill's dark brow arched as though reading the thought. “You can walk them first,” he said, as though conferring a boon. “I'll take care of the later session, okay?”

Tom succumbed with a defeated sigh. He'd backed himself into this corner. “Okay,” he gave his consent. 

“Good,” Bill purred, beaming all over his makeup-free face. “Now go walk the dogs.”

Tom wrinkled up his features in an expressive grimace. “You're not the boss of me,” he said.

“Oh, really.”

“You're not,” Tom insisted, aware it sounded pretty weak. “Not outside of bed.” For right now, he added in his thoughts. Until he got it out of his system, until Bill had fucked the need right out of him and their natural order was restored.

Although _needing_ Bill was pretty much the status quo, needing to get screwed by him was a new wrinkle to their relationship.

“Mm-hmm.”

Bill's mouth had a teasing curve to it as Tom got up from the table, but Tom didn't bother to call him on it.

He tried to control a shiver as he moved through the living room, going for his hoodie and over-sized jacket. He'd given Bill his permission to work him over; hell, he'd begged him for it. It was going to _happen_ ; he'd set the wheels in motion and now it was basically out of his control. There was a flare of apprehension in his gut, like the sickly swoop that came when in mid-fall before realizing someone was going to catch him.

“Where are you going, Tom?”

Tom glared over his shoulder. “I was going to walk the dogs anyhow.”

“Uh-huh.” There was undisguised smugness in that tone.

Tom gave his twin the finger and rummaged for the dog leashes. One of the things he absolutely hated was being told what to do when he was already going to do it – Bill knew that, and yet sprang it on him anyhow every now and then. It made Tom contrarily want to do the opposite, or not perform what he'd intended.

He grabbed Scotty's leash first. Some days he wanted to get the job done, wanted to take care of things quickly and compartmentalize his time with maximum efficiency, and on those days he took the dogs two at a time. Four was courting disaster – he'd tried that once. Three was only feasible if there was no chance of squirrel encounters.

Today he took his time, and walked the dogs one by one. Some of their dogs dragged ass on a slow walk and it took breaking into a run for a few blocks to get them to do their business. On this particular day, Tom didn't rush their dog boys, and girl. He let them take their time about it, didn't bother to heel them, and ambled along behind them as they set the pace. When he'd deposited the last doggy offering in the bin on his way through the back yard and spent five minutes wiping Sadie's paws at the mat, Tom acknowledged a sense of dread low in his belly.

He could always _feel_ when Bill was plotting things.

“Tom,” Bill's voice called from within the house, peremptory and impatient. “You've taken long enough; what are you going to do, procrastinate all morning?”

“That was the plan,” Tom muttered. He toed his shoes off at the mat and bustled around putting things away, feeding treats to the dogs, fondling Nova's ears for a moment. The pointer was lying in a contented heap with Scotty and lifted his head in an inquiring movement. Tom patted him once more and moved on. He'd walked the energy out of all of them, and it was likely they'd leave the twins undisturbed for a while.

Summoning up his fortitude, Tom told himself not to be a sissy. He went to wash his hands in the bathroom up the hallway and called out as he dried them, “Where are you?”

“My room,” Bill called back.

Tom sucked in a breath to steady himself. Bill's room. He _knew_ it.

The two of them piled into Tom's room most nights, along with all four of the dogs, no matter what they told reporters who had no right to ask in any case. Tom's room was essentially their room. Bill's was a glorified closet, nicely decorated, rarely used, a monument to clothing and makeup and stacks of notebooks and a box of sex toys that he liked to haul out when he was feeling creative.

Tom never really knew when an item belonging to the box was going to make it into their loveplay because the box was constantly being expanded. Sometimes Tom was convinced that Bill's frequent shopping trips were a front for the acquisition of new toys. Bill wasn't exactly a shopaholic; he tended to pick out things that he really loved and kept them a long time, mixing and matching and getting plenty of use out of them. There were enough fashion-label bags parading into the apartment that one or two discreetly-wrapped packages of suspicious origin had no trouble making it into Bill's purchases. Tom wasn't quite sure where Bill got them; he had his sources.

He dawdled on his way up the stairs, looking around hopefully as though the dogs, or some random cleaning task, might pop up to exert a sudden demand on him.

At last, Tom had to admit that there was no point in drawing it out any longer because the only thing that would accomplish would be pissing Bill off.

The upstairs hallway was varnished wood flooring and white-painted walls that were hung with knick-knacks that ran the gamut from tour souvenirs to old family so-called “heirlooms” that Simone had pressed upon them when they had moved out. Tom padded along the long Persian-style runner that ran the length of the hall from staircase to the last room at the end. “Bill's room” was one of two bedrooms that faced each other across the hall. By mutual agreement, they had converted the master bedroom as designated by the house's original floor plan into a joint office for the two of them.

It really was unfair, Tom considered to himself as he stalled on his way to the open door on the left. Bill got his own space, crowded all up in Tom's, and Tom really didn't have any particular room he could call exclusively “his.”

“Get _in_ here,” Bill called from the bedroom, his voice on the verge of going from impatience to annoyance.

“All right, all right,” Tom muttered, stepping into the doorway. “What do you...oh god.”

Bill was perched on the edge of the huge, canopied bed that he had purchased for appearance's sake, given that the king-sized bed in Tom's room saw all the action that any mattress in the house was ever graced with. When Bill was pissed with him, Tom occasionally slept on the couch, or in the studio.

Bill was examining his nails with one hand, patting the other atop a thick fluffy towel with a few implements that Tom recognized. One of them, notably, was the large tube of lubricant that normally sat on the bedside table in Tom's room.

“I was about to pack up for the day,” Bill said abruptly, looking up from the scrutiny of his nails into Tom's face with a piercing gaze. “You're killing my hard-on.”

“I want this,” Tom protested.

The dark brow rose in a familiar quirk. “You're not acting like it.”

“Because you want to...you want to use _that_ on me!” Tom cried, pointing at the slender toy on the towel as though it were a personal threat to his masculinity.

“Oh, my god, seriously, Tom?” Bill exclaimed with an epic eyeroll. “You'd think you've never had something shoved up your ass before.”

“I haven't,” Tom said thoughtlessly, and revised his declaration right quick upon catching Bill's evil glare. “Not, you know, anything but _you_. You're, you know, real and...and you feel good, and it's, you know, sexy because it's _you_ in there and not...some...toy...”

Bill's brow was still raised. He was clearly unimpressed with Tom's heartfelt speech.

“I love you?” Tom added hopefully. Sometimes that worked to get him out of trouble.

“I love you, too,” Bill told him, with a warm and gorgeous smile that crinkled up the corners of his kohl-rimmed eyes. “Strip and get on the bed.”

Sometimes it didn't work.

Tom sighed. “You think your hard-on is gone,” he said woefully, glancing at the slim toy on the towel and shuddering a bit, perhaps exaggerated but also heartfelt. It was about six inches long, thicker than a signing marker but thinner than a sausage, and it had a daunting bulb near one end before pinching off to the width of about a finger or less, terminating in a broad, flat base. “This has to be the most unsexy seduction in the history of ever.”

“That's because it's not a seduction, Tom,” Bill said, sounding patient but his lip curled. “I'm prepping you for my dick. God, and people think I'm the drama queen.”

Tom growled, began a protest, and shut up as he recognized the knowing glint in Bill's eyes. It hauled him up short, realizing he was making something out of nothing, basically coming up with excuses not to do what Bill wanted. “Okay,” he acquiesced, and relished the glint of surprise in Bill's eyes. He wanted this – needed this, he reminded himself – and he'd agreed to do it on Bill's terms already. What kind of a man would he be if he backed out now?

Shucking his clothing off one article at a time, he let things fall where they would on the carpet. He wasn't trying for sexy or drawn out, simply trying to be as efficient as possible. A small involuntary noise from Bill distracted him and he glanced up to see Bill biting his lip, eyes playing over Tom's torso with hungry possessiveness. It brought heat into Tom's cheeks, making him remember why he rarely peeled off his shirt in public anymore, no matter how much management said it 'played well' with their mostly-female audience. It turned them on to see him half-nude, sure...and it turned _Bill_ on, too, and Bill had enough trouble as it was not acting stupidly in love with him at the best of times.

Aware of that heated gaze on him, Tom kept his head ducked and went a bit slower, kicking his jeans into a heap around his ankles. He hesitated when he was down to his socks and boxers.

“Everything,” Bill said quietly.

Tom bowed his head in acknowledgment and bent to strip each sock. He glanced behind him at the open door, dropped his socks onto his jeans, and went to close the door.

The boxers were last to go, and he let them fall atop his piled clothing before squaring his shoulders and facing Bill, totally nude. Bill's eyes flickered over him and a vague smile crossed his lips as he met Tom's eyes.

"On the bed," Bill instructed. "Hands and knees, on the towel."

Tom stifled the urge to cover himself with his hands as he approached the bed. Bill's eyes on him were incisive, almost clinical as though he were dissecting him from head to soles. It wasn't sexy as much as...penetrating. Bill was inside him as deeply as Tom's own thoughts but rarely did it make him uncomfortable. Right now Bill was seeing the parts inside him that Tom had trouble acknowledging, but still needed to satisfy. It was difficult for Tom to admit he'd reached the point of desperation. He couldn't deny Bill any thought that passed through his mind, but that didn't mean it was always easy.

He got onto his hands and knees on the bed, his face burning as Bill moved around so that Tom had his ass presented to him. "Bill..." he groaned, confused when he arranged himself with his legs under him and stayed there for several moments, untouched.

"What do you want, Tom?" Bill asked after a long interval of silence ticked past.

Tom laid his cheek against one folded arm and looked across the room. He caught a surreptitious glance at the mirror opposite the bed, and saw Bill's reflection standing poised behind him.

"I want it," Tom said, the request pouring out of him in a deep groan.

"What?" Bill asked innocently. Fingers grazed over the skin of Tom's rear.

"I want..." Tom began, before sucking in a breath. He continued uncertainly, "Your fingers?"

“All right,” Bill said agreeably, and stroked the backs of his thighs. He giggled a little and petted over Tom's skin, his fingers cool and slender.

A frustrated noise issued from Tom's throat unbidden. “Not just...to touch me,” he forced the words out. “In me, I want your fingers...in me. I want you first, not the toy.”

“Was that so hard?” Bill murmured, stroking his tailbone. His hand caressed up and down over the curve of Tom's rear. At last, Bill moved to touch him in an overtly sexual manner, trailing his index finger up the bared crack of Tom's ass.

Tom tensed, even knowing that Bill wouldn't do something so cruel as to push into him, dry. He began to relax again when Bill's finger simply moved back and forth, circling his hole with gentle, easy motion that made Tom's belly tighten and his cock tingle in a precursor to filling with the rush of blood.

The cap popping open was loud in the quiet of Bill's room. Tom drew in a shaky breath and lifted his cheek a bit, looking in the mirror again to watch Bill coat a finger, wiping some off on the bottle.

Bill paused again. His dry hand passed over Tom's rear in lazy back and forth caresses.

“I need it,” Tom spoke into the charged air, giving up without a fight. “Bill, I need it, I want to feel you in me. Please, please...” His throat closed and his head bowed again; he lifted his hips to raise his ass in wordless offering.

In response, a pair of lips brushed against the base of Tom's spine.

Bill kissed down Tom's left rear cheek, emitting a quiet, pleasured noise as he rubbed his cheek against Tom's buttock. He nuzzled against Tom's ass, mouthed a spot on the outside curve, and nipped his teeth there too lightly to leave a mark. Bill kissed his way up to Tom's spine and down the other cheek, rewarding him lavishly for the admission with his lips.

“I'll give it to you,” Bill whispered, and stroked his wet finger into Tom's crack. He pressed around Tom's hole some more, unhurried swipes of his finger until Tom settled on his heels, relaxing somewhat. There was no scratch of over-long nails. At some point, Bill must have clipped them down to the nail beds.

The finger slid into him and Tom's mouth opened, his eyes snapping wide. He forgot every time until the next time. His sphincter pulsed down around the intruder, drawing his awareness down to a place that was now like a second heartbeat, the center of his attention.

“God,” he gasped out. Even that seemed like too much. He wanted to tell Bill to take it out.

“Shh, it's barely in,” Bill soothed him. He wasn't starting out with any fancy tricks, no curving or pressing or putting it all the way in; he was taking it at Tom's pace.

Tom bit frantically at his lip ring and struggled to breathe through his nose.

“It's just me,” Bill said, his voice coaxing. “Relax, Tomi.” His finger slid in further.

Tom tried to do as he was advised, but even Bill's finger seemed enormous to him. He gritted his teeth and set his forehead on his arm. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ ” he gritted, upset with himself and his stupid over-sensitive body for clamping down.

“I'm not going to do anything,” Bill told him, leaving his finger buried. “I'm going to wait until you ask for more, Tom.” Another fluttering kiss was branded onto the base of his spine.

Gritting his teeth, Tom rubbed his cheek against one arm and wondered when he'd begun to sweat. Mutinously he thought to himself that Bill would be waiting a long time. Behind him, Bill stroked Tom's bottom with his free hand as he remained behind him. Bill began to hum a slow song, something that he and Tom had been working on for years and declared a perpetual work in progress, something for the two of them and nothing else. Bill was slowing the pace of their song and almost before he knew it, Tom's muscles unclenched one by one.

“Okay,” Tom said at last, lifting his head and inclining his hips. The movement pushed Bill's finger deeper into him and Tom gulped. It wasn't a bad sensation, only odd, and something he hadn't felt in a while.

Bill said nothing. He began to slide his finger out of Tom.

“No...no, put it back in!” Tom said frantically, afraid to lose any ground. “Please, Bill, put it in!”

Bill chuckled and bent over him, kissing one upraised cheek and dragging his tongue stud against the flesh, licking him. “Since you asked so nicely...” He pressed his finger deeper into Tom and moved it around, searching.

Tom concentrated on taking slow, even breaths but kept losing the battle to concentration on what was going on behind him. He licked his lips, groaned, and screwed his eyes shut as Bill's finger pressed all the way and curved, almost hooking, probing this way and that with utmost gentleness. Even so, despite all Bill's care, Tom was breathing so fast he was practically hyperventilating.

One finger. _Fuck_. Bill was right to declare that they needed to work up to bigger and better things.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” Bill commanded, before resuming his quiet hum as he swiped his lubed finger around Tom's insides.

“Ahh...ahh, I'm feeling...fuck,” Tom began, losing his train of thought halfway through as Bill's finger brushed close, maddeningly close. He panted harder. “Oh god, you're almost there...”

“Feels good?” Bill wanted to know. His finger found Tom's prostate and stopped. He stroked over it with the pad of his index finger, rubbing back and forth.

“Fuck!” Tom moaned, arching his back, beginning to push onto Bill at first before his body tried to pull away. “Hurts...”

“It hurts?” Bill demanded, his finger stilling its movements.

“Feels so good it hurts,” Tom admitted, pressing his sweaty face against the coverlet. He rocked his hips, still not sure whether he wanted more or less of Bill's finger curling there.

Bill didn't give him a choice. He rode his finger over Tom's prostate again and again, making him cry out and shake against the blankets. After a moment he pulled out before Tom could protest and there was a squiffy sputtering noise followed by the glop of more lube against Tom's hole.

“Nnn,” Tom moaned, not sure himself whether he was protesting or encouraging the addition of a finger.

“You can take two, right, baby?” Bill murmured, his voice throaty.

Tom closed his eyes and he could picture the look on Bill's face, flushed and sparkling. “Yeah...y-yeah, give me two.” He tilted his pelvis, setting his forehead against the covers. “God, please, Bill! I need it...”

“Shh, I'll give you what you need,” Bill promised. The tips of his two fingers breached Tom's body now, little enough that Tom didn't fight the intrusion this time. Bill hummed and petted Tom's flank and reached below to grasp Tom's hard-on, not jerking him so much as rolling foreskin back and forth, gentle as a whisper-kiss.

“God,” Tom choked. “Bill, ahh, fuck...Bill...” Thoroughly diverted by the hand on his cock, he didn't even flinch until Bill hilted his fingers, curving and searching out his prostate again, rubbing it with scintillating precision.

Tom's body lurched and he moaned like an animal. “Oh, oh...” He tried to twist away from the fingers, from the pleasure; it was _too much_ , it was always too much and that was why he feared this as much as he enjoyed it. The stimulation flooded every part of his body, his pleasure centers, and he had no defenses.

The only person he could _ever_ accept this from was Bill, who had already invaded every part of his being so long ago.

“Talk to me,” Bill murmured.

Tom tried to raise up on his knees and groaned and possibly drooled on the blankets. “Nnn, nnngh,” he managed as Bill's fingers massaged back and forth over the spongy bit of prostate that comprised the center of Tom's being right then. He pushed himself up to look between his legs, surprised he wasn't coming already, and groaned as he watched Bill gripping him _down there_ in a very specific, frustrating way. Bill wasn't going to let him come. “Fucking...you know it fucking feels good!”

“But you have to tell me,” Bill said sweetly. “Or it doesn't count.”

“It hurts, it feels good,” Tom moaned, dropping his head to the blankets again and rocking back on Bill's fingers. “Every time I want to pull away I have to push back again, it's too much but I want more and more.”

“Good,” Bill said. He kissed the bit of flesh above Tom's tailbone. His fingers slithered free.

“Don't...ah, don't leave me empty,” Tom begged.

“Don't worry,” Bill told him, kissing him high on his rear again. “I won't.”

The squelch of the lube was louder this time and Tom bit his lip, trying to calm his breathing as he waited for three fingers. God, he _wanted_ three fingers. It was still curiously painful but his cock was so hard he could barely stand it.

Something blunt and cold nudged at Tom's puckered hole. His mouth dropped open and his voice cracked on an undignified squeak.

“Bill--!”

That was not his brother's fingers.

“I promised you wouldn't be empty!” Bill said cheerfully. “Don't worry, Tomi, this isn't bigger than my fingers.”

Before Tom could even think of clenching down, the head of the toy went in smoothly. It wasn't like a dildo; it didn't have a rounded or bulbous tip. It thrust inside Tom's somewhat-relaxed entrance and Bill guided it in with steady pressure, pushing a hand to the flat of Tom's lower back and guiding the toy for his prostate.

“Ah...” Tom's nascent protests scattered to the winds as the tip of the long, slender shaft glided over his spot. “Ahh, damn it!” He whimpered and bit his lip.

“Found it,” Bill said with satisfaction, as though Tom didn't know.

Tom panted and clung to handfuls of coverlet, but Bill kept the toy where it was, unmoving.

“Aagh,” Tom expressed his frustration, trying not to rock back and forth.

“Tomi?” Bill inquired, managing to sound concerned and devious all at once.

“Fuck...ahh...move it, will you?” Tom moaned, panting and trying to rub against the towel beneath his hips and groin.

“All right,” Bill said innocently. He pushed the toy in further.

Tom's brow furrowed as a larger intrusion, a bulbous widening of the toy, made itself known at his entrance. He remembered all at once that the toy widened before narrowing down to its slimmest point. “Oh, fuck,” he whimpered. “No...ahh...”

Ignoring his feeble denial, Bill rotated the toy in slow circles, widening Tom's sphincter and continuing to sink it inside of him.

Tom's mouth opened in a silent scream as he was stretched and made full. He didn't even try to say anything for fear he'd make the most undignified sex noises ever.

There was pressure, and the white-hot flare of the toy nudging up against the best place inside of him. Tom bit his lip over the moan that began to wrangle free of his tight control. The larger, rounded part of the toy went in and Tom felt his tight little hole spasm closed around the thinnest part of the toy, keeping the length contained inside his body.

“There,” Bill said, sounding satisfied. He patted Tom's ass with a proprietary hand.

“Ohh,” Tom exhaled, rubbing forward against the towel. His dick moved over folds of towel and he groaned, pressing down to get better friction.

“No,” Bill told him, giving him a sharp smack. “This isn't for you to get off.”

Tom ignored him and reached between his thighs, intending to jerk himself off roughly and shoot all over Bill's towel. Another slap to his ass, dangerously close to his balls, shifted the toy inside him a fraction and made him cry out.

“I mean it,” Bill said, insistent. “This is for stretching you. If you get off, it'll just be uncomfortable. I need you to really feel it, and be aroused by it, for this to work.”

Tom moaned and twisted around. “You serious?”

Bill gave him a beatific smile. “This is for you,” he said. “I promise it'll be worth it in a few days.”

“All right,” Tom said, staying on his knees, scared to sit back and feel the pressure of the toy shifted more firmly against his insides. “Um. So. What now? It doesn't feel...ugh, it's so weird.”

“You're doing great,” Bill informed him, petting his thigh. He yoked an arm around Tom's neck, leaning forward and nudging up against his lips.

Tom winced, trying not to move. "How big was that exactly?" He was trying to remember; it didn't seem huge in him, exactly, but big enough that he couldn't help but be constantly aware of it.

"Don't ask," Bill said with a little laugh. He brushed his lips over Tom's cheek before placing a promise of a kiss beside his mouth.. "It'll make you feel pathetic."

"That's..." Tom scowled, mouth working, trying to think of an appropriate comeback. He couldn't ever recall Bill complaining about taking his dick, though, so he had no ammo; he was in an inferior position, militarily speaking. Time for a strategic retreat, or misdirection. He turned his head and fastened his mouth to Bill's, taking him by surprise.

Bill made a pleased noise and opened his mouth to Tom, letting his tongue in after keeping his mouth closed a moment. Tom pressed forward, half-climbing into Bill's lap with one hand making a fast path down Bill's stomach.

"Ah, ahh," Bill chided, pushing Tom's hand away from the waistband of his track pants.

"You serious?" Tom mumbled.

"We're not having sex," Bill said with a mysterious, droopy-eyed look.

"But, I want it so bad," Tom groaned, surging forward half to escape the 'following' sensation of the toy in his rear, but wholly consumed with lust as well.

"If you suck me off, as anxious as you are right now, you'll come," Bill flat-out told him.

"Ugh," Tom said, lapsing against Bill's shoulder, but he couldn't deny it. "So...what'm I supposed to do?"

"Chores?" Bill responded in a cheery tone. "Then you can join me on the couch and we can neck and cuddle."

"Without a climax," Tom said, grumpy about it.

"No," Bill agreed, firm. "Not until I take it out."

"How long?" Tom wanted to know, giving Bill anxious eyes. He was thinking half an hour, an hour at the most...

"Until just before dinner," Bill replied with a wicked little grin. At Tom's horrified look, he continued, "Hey, if you hadn't taken so long with the dogs, I might have held it down to a couple of hours."

Tom groaned and slumped down into Bill's lap. Worst, he thought, was the prospect that Bill expected him to make out and snuggle without blowing his wad. This was going to be _torture._


	2. Restraint

"Remind me why I wanted you to do this, again?"

"I give you good orgasms," Bill said promptly.

“Damn right,” Tom said appreciatively. He crawled onto the couch beside Bill, flopping himself down and laying his head on his brother's thigh in a way he rarely did – when he was needy or his mood was dragging so poor he was flat on the ground.

Today his mood wasn't poor.

The day before, Bill had left him at loose ends for the first half of the afternoon, though he had checked in with Tom more than once to make sure he was okay, didn't need to reapply more lube, that sort of thing. They had cuddled and necked on the couch for hours and Bill had stopped the gentle bump and grind, pulling back whenever Tom's motions became too frantic, keeping them on the edge forever. At the end of the arbitrary time period Bill had set in his head, he'd led Tom back upstairs, pulled his pants down without ceremony, and sucked him off as he worked the toy free. Tom came down Bill's throat with a howl and would have returned the favor, getting down on his knees for Bill. Bill had pushed away the hand reaching for his pants, giving Tom a mysterious smile and informing him that was all for Tom, and he was saving his for 'later.'

Here and now, Tom rubbed his cheek against Bill's ratty track pants, hoping it was 'later.' “I want it,” he said at last, trying to summon up the words to be more specific. Tom got off on touch, scent, taste; Bill went for audio-visual.

Bill made a noncommittal noise and raised the remote, flipping channels. “What do you want, Tom?” His voice was filled with false innocence. A hand stroked over the tight rows that crossed Tom's scalp.

“I want you to...put it in,” Tom said hoarsely. He struggled to form the words. Why couldn't he be more specific? It was what Bill wanted...what _he_ wanted, too, if he was honest with himself. No, he'd gone to Bill. This was all on him. “I want your fingers. I want...tongue, I want it...” He trailed off, frustrated.

“We have to be in the mood for rimming,” Bill told him. He worked his nails over the exposed strips of scalp between Tom's 'rows. “And I really don't feel like being licked out, right now.”

“I want your tongue in my ass,” Tom blurted, and turned his face against Bill's thigh as though he were going to kiss it. The movement buried his flaming skin against Bill's track pants and he figured after being that honest, it was okay to go ahead and try to hide, again.

“Oh,” Bill said, in a decidedly different tone. His hand stroked down Tom's head and gripped at the base of his braids. “You want something else in your ass, too?”

Tom nodded, lifting his face from Bill's thigh. His face was still hot. He'd been somewhat sore that morning when he'd woken, not enough to mention it to Bill – because he'd been sure he would be made fun of, given the slender width of the toy – but Bill had asked, clinical and non-judgmental as a nurse. It had gone away after about half their day had progressed, and now Tom was back to the craving, knowing even more what he wanted now that Bill had given him a taste the day before.

Bill's breathing quickened. “Let's go upstairs.”

They had finished a round of tour prep meetings and a promo spot a couple of hours ago, and were settling in after a busy day. Tom had finished walking the dogs, accompanied by Bill who had the glamorous chore of picking up after them, and their fur-children were scattered in various corners of the house, acting as though they were somehow more wiped out than the twins.

With the dogs out for the count, it was the perfect time to fool around.

Tom smirked as they got up from the couch.

“What's that for?” Bill said, with a little laugh.

“Oh, you know...planning our sex lives around the babies,” Tom replied, arching a brow, knowing Bill would get it.

Bill laughed again. “Well, we're a family; that's what you do. I don't remember M--”

Tom put a hand over his twin's mouth. “If the rest of that thought was going to involve other members of our extended family, leave it unsaid. We're going to go have sex--”

Bill's brows arched and he pried Tom's hand away from his face. “Oh, we are?”

“I thought...” Tom began uncertainly.

“That's quite an assumption,” Bill said. He grabbed Tom's hand and led him up the stairs. “I suppose it comes down to how you define sex.”

That did nothing to reassure the unsettled quiver taking up residence in the pit of his stomach.

Bill steered him toward his empty bedroom, that clothes museum, his _toy closet_ , and the quivers multiplied in Tom's stomach. As they crossed the threshold, he could see the towel was already laid out on the bed.

“Damn,” Tom whispered, and bit his lip. Another toy was laid out on the towel, thicker though not longer than the first. This one had a more rounded tip, tapering to a smooth, long shaft with a bulge at the bottom before it pinched in before the base.

“You're still not ready for me,” Bill said, petting his arm. “But you were so good yesterday. I'll give you my fingers and tongue, okay?"

Tom swallowed and nodded dumbly. He began to strip, tugging the shirt up his middle, but Bill put a hand on his arm, stopping his forward momentum.

"Just your pants," Bill told him with a faint smile.

"Okay," Tom replied, too horny to be wary or hesitant at that very specific request. He let his pants drop and shoved them aside, contemplating picking them up and folding them properly, setting them on the high-backed chair beside Bill's vanity, but a hand pressed in at the small of his back and urged him on, keeping him in motion when he might have lingered.

After getting on his knees on the towel, Tom pressed his cheek against one forearm, taking furtive glances at the mirror every now and then. His arm was cool by contrast, his cheeks were that fiercely alight. He was open and terribly exposed, unsure what Bill was going to do next, off-balance by the clamor of his own desire...

He was also hard as steel, and trying not to press his cock against the fur-soft roughness of the towel.

“Ready?” Bill purred in dulcet tones, fingers trailing over the tops of Tom's rear cheeks.

Tom nodded, tongued his lip, and found his voice. “Yeah...please,” he said, hoarse but sure.

The click of the bottle uncapping was familiar, a Pavlovian cue that made Tom squirm, whimpering as he shoved his aching dick against the towel. He was vigilant for the first touch but it wasn't fingers again. Something soft and wet brushed against the top of his crease, creating a line of glistering heat from one buttock to the other.

“Oh,” Tom said, quiet and surprised. He'd asked, but he hadn't been sure that Bill would actually _do_ it. Just because it was something he loved doing to Bill didn't always mean the same in reverse, for them.

“Shh,” Bill responded, sending shivers of sensation coursing through Tom's crack, the skin of his rear, and lodging in his dick.

Tom quivered and surreptitiously shifted against the towel again.

“Stop that,” Bill said against his ass, and proceeded to lick a fat, wet stripe down the middle, dragging his tongue stud from sacrum to the sensitive strip of flesh behind Tom's balls.

Tom's response was wordless but no less vocal for that.

He wanted more and he inclined his hips, wordlessly begging for it. Bill didn't even bother to prompt him for a coherent response this time, licking back up to his tender hole and beginning to rim him with enthusiasm. His lips came into play, sucking at the delicate skin before he hummed and twirled his tongue around it.

Tom moaned aloud, caught himself with a ragged breath, and another cry was surprised out of him as Bill brought his tongue to bear again. He turned it into a firm point, probing at Tom's entrance and lapping there until Tom relaxed, pleasure-struck. Bill's tongue slipped in and began pushing at his hole in rapid flicks, hot breath fanning against Tom's skin as he tongue-fucked him.

“Oh...oh...” Tom panted, lurching against the towel. He'd imagined Bill would be somewhat more tentative to lick him out, at least to start, but as usual with all his endeavors, he was diving right in and doing what he wanted.

Tom wasn't about to complain.

Bill breathed hotly against his hole an instant before rubbing his face in there, nose grazing up and down and lips tracking wetness up and down. He closed his mouth around Tom's hole and sucked before feeding his tongue in again, pressing in shallow at first before thrusting it deeper.

“I'm gonna--” Tom cried, and pushed his hips down, away from his twin's face and striving madly for release.

“No, you're not,” Bill denied firmly. One slender-boned but strong hand gripped him at the place where Tom's balls met his body and the other hand went to his shaft.

Tom groaned, incensed and turned on and desperate for release, and reached to pry his brother's fingers away from his raging hard-on.

Bill pushed his seeking hand away and fumbled with something.

One of the toy boxes had been placed on the bed within easy reach. Tom hadn't given it a moment's thought before, but his eyes widened with understanding as Bill slipped something rubbery but unyielding over the tip of his dick and worked it down his length with a quick, deft touch.

The cinching of the cock-ring wrung a single, angry cry from Tom's throat. “Bill--!”

“You weren't going to be good,” Bill returned, petting Tom's dick with a gentle hand before retreating, stroking the skin of one buttock. “You were pushing me away, so close all you could think about was coming.”

Tom bit his lip, unable to deny it.

“Now,” Bill said, sounding pleased with himself. “What do you want, Tomi?”

“Fingers,” Tom muttered, a little resentful with his cock still throbbing in what had definitely been the precursor to a hard orgasm. He was stuck there now, blood pounding and balls tingling and nowhere to bring all that sensation to bear.

“You love it,” Bill proclaimed, sensing his moodiness, and kissed the base of his spine. One hand stroked reassurance at Tom's hip.

Tom snorted but the incredulous sound lengthened, turning into a moan as Bill pressed a slim finger into him with very little warning. It was slick and went in easily but the surprise made Tom clench down around the invading digit.

“See how ready you are for me?” Bill murmured. “That went in just fine.”

“Feels...ah...fine,” Tom gritted, setting his forehead against his arm again. It stung, as it had the day before, but he could tell it was only one finger and it didn't come across as dismayingly large.

Bill kissed and nuzzled one of his ass-cheeks, setting his teeth there to mark his ownership as he worked the one finger back and forth. It wasn't much longer before Tom panted and spread his legs wider, encouraging the addition of another finger.

“More,” Tom panted, and added because it didn't hurt, “please.”

Bill's lips formed a smile against Tom's rear. “Since you asked so nicely.” He kissed at the base of Tom's spine in silent reward.

Tom was shaking as Bill inserted two fingers, but found that his body accepted them as it had the first. He tried to relax, make himself open, willing himself to take it because maybe, if he was good enough, _open_ enough, Bill would do it to him today and abandon his plan of gradual stretching over the course of the week.

“You're so fucking tight,” Bill said, sounding as though he were clenching his teeth. “Stop squeezing.”

“I'm not,” Tom panted, confused.

“Fuck,” Bill said, and pressed his fingers in and out. It was slow going. “I don't know if you can even handle the plug I picked out for today.”

Tom groaned. He didn't want to go back to yesterday's toy. He tilted his hips, trying to give Bill better access, and thought _relax, relax_ at his body, even though everything was throbbing back there.

“Calm down, it's okay,” Bill soothed him. He worked his fingers into Tom and bent, spreading soft kisses around the base of Tom's spine, giving him open-mouthed flickers of tongue and gentle nips. “We'll get there. This is you and me. Don't wanna hurt you, Tom...”

“I know,” Tom said, panting. “I know...nnh! I just, I want your cock.”

“You know I'm bigger than the toy,” Bill informed him.

Tom groaned and lowered his head again, trying to keep his ass raised as his legs shook. “'Nother finger?”

“Calm down first,” Bill instructed, moving the two within Tom in an easy back-and-forth glide. “Let me know when this feels good.”

Tom opened his mouth, considered, and carefully shut it. His twin would know if he was lying, of course. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut and moaned as Bill's blunt fingers found it, finding and stroking over his prostate. A fair share of the tension unraveled as Tom lurched while the pleasure overtook him. His cock throbbed madly and Tom was sure he'd be unloading all over the towel if not for the ring that Bill had put on him.

“Ahh...ahh!” Tom expressed his opinion of that.

Bill chuckled before setting his mouth against Tom's ass as though to smother his mirth. “Like that?”

“More,” Tom moaned, even as he rocked away to escape from the sheer intensity of Bill stroking over the spot inside him like that.

“I'll give you more,” Bill murmured, and added a third finger. His other hand stroked over Tom's ass, caressing up and down his thigh in a slow, soothing gesture.

Tom hissed. He hadn't taken three fingers yesterday. His hole was burning already, despite the copious amounts of lube that he could tell Bill had used. It was oozing down against his balls and magnifying sound back there into sloppy noises as Bill worked his fingers in and out with utmost care. He was going to be sore and he gritted his teeth hard, imagining how it would be worth it, thinking about Bill seated in him to the hilt.

“Ahh,” Tom wailed, shocked when Bill's fingers dragged over his prostate. His cock pulsed to an angry beat, letting him know again that his climax had been delayed but it was there waiting.

“I think your body gets confused,” Bill told him, kissing the base of his tailbone again, giving Tom a brief lick before resting his chin in the dip at the end of Tom's spine. “Give you this much pleasure and your body thinks I'm hurting you.”

“It's so much,” Tom mumbled, trying to keep his butt raised as his legs quivered harder.

Bill's chin retracted abruptly and his fingers thrust into Tom with quick purposeful twists.

Tom bit down on his arm and whimpered as his prostate was assaulted. “Don't...ah!” He lowered his face against the bed and moaned.

“Don't?” Bill repeated, his fingers beginning to slither away from that scintillating point.

“Don't stop,” Tom begged, pushing back against him.

“Ah,” Bill murmured, “but that's the perfect place to stop.” He pulled his fingers out and his other hand patted Tom's bottom. He wiped his hands over the towel and shifted on the bed, reaching to stroke a reassuring hand over Tom's shoulder and neck. He tugged a handful of Tom's braids and caressed up over his scalp, itching just perfectly between the rows. It was soothing, felt good, but Bill's presence at his back had other associations, making Tom shake and wish he was about to be filled.

Tom could only moan and grind helplessly against the towel, so turned on and horny and empty. He pushed his ass back, wanting something, needing stimulation, ready for _anything_ Bill gave him, so long as it went in.

Bill pressed the cool blunt head of the plug to his entrance.

Tom stifled a sob and took it as the toy teased at the rim with a few small rotations before pushing into him. It wasn't easy, not even like Bill's fingers that had entered him with some resistance near the end. He groaned and wiped his fevered forehead against his arm and shifted, trying not to whine as Bill sank the toy into his not quite yielding body.

Behind him, Bill was utterly silent and Tom knew he was concentrating as he guided the toy further, sounding him carefully with each centimeter. One hand resumed making a soothing circuit up and down Tom's thigh.

Only when he unclenched at last, and the toy filled him with a suddenness that made him shout, did Tom realize how wound up he'd been.

“Good,” Bill said, sounding relieved. He thrust the toy with purpose, making Tom's moans rise and peak with each stroke. His caressing hand moved up to Tom's lower back, guiding him into a better position.

Soon the toy was butting up against Tom's prostate with almost every push of Bill's hand, and Tom was reaching down and trying to jerk off despite knowing he couldn't quite make it there, wouldn't be able to achieve release and it would only make him ever more frenzied. Bill laughed and kissed him, and pushed the base of the plug against his stretched hole.

“Take it,” Bill whispered, kissing his tailbone. “A little more, Tom; take it, open just for me...”

Tom loosed a long-held breath and shook as his body spasmed open around the largest width of the intruder. He was filled up, every nerve alight, pulled onto his knees and upright and held back against Bill's body.

“You like it,” Bill whispered in his ear, before kissing his neck.

“Nnng,” Tom responded, pushing his hips up, looking down at the strident crimson of his cock. His awareness blinkered down to 'gotta come, gotta come' and he grunted, torn between rubbing back against Bill's dick, full as he was, and getting onto his knees again.

“Gonna give it to you, Tomi,” Bill continued, kissing the back of his neck now. He trailed damp fingers over Tom's bare hip. “Now turn around and suck me.”

Tom twisted around with alacrity, moaning as the toy shifted inside him and slid against his prostate. He got onto his knees facing the foot of the bed, bracing himself on one arm. He tensed, moaned again, and fumbled the head of Bill's cock into his mouth. He split his lips around the head, licking and sucking with sloppy enthusiasm, skimming foreskin down as he bobbed his mouth around his twin's cock.

"Yes...ah, yes," Bill moaned, coaxing. The fingers of one hand scratched down Tom's cornrows, skidding over exposed scalp light but firm, and Tom rearranged himself on his haunches to go at Bill's dick from a new angle, lips stretching and throat opening to accommodate more. He moaned as the plug shifted inside him again, all but drilling his prostate.

Bill whispered something breathy and unintelligible. He grasped Tom's braids and gave a possessive tug.

"Mmm," Tom moaned around Bill's dick. If he'd been unfettered just then, he knew he'd be spilling himself against Bill's creamy thighs. Having his hair grabbed just so really did it for him, but only Bill was allowed, as with so many other intimacies.

"Oh, I love you," Bill half-sobbed.

Tom slurped around his mouthful and moved his head in a parody of a nod, taking Bill's dick half down his throat. He backed up, cheeks hollowed, and stayed there, working his throat around the tip of Bill's dick in shallow pulses. He swirled his tongue under the head.

Bill pulled back, grabbing his cock out of Tom's mouth and smearing the head around over Tom's lips. He panted heavily and began to come. He held his cock and aimed, pumping his release over Tom's chin, correcting himself with a giggled 'oops' and sending his come ribboning over Tom's lips.

Tom lapped at the tip even as Bill held it just out of reach, spilling the rest into his mouth with a brief dabble against his cheek. Eyes hazed half shut, Tom swallowed and licked around his lips, taking all that Bill had given him.

"Good, you're so good," Bill was crooning, and Tom came to awareness kneeling up, sucking at one of Bill's fingers and trying to rub against his thigh. There was stickiness at the corner of his mouth and he nipped at the pad of Bill's finger.

Wordless, Tom pushed his hard cock against Bill's hip as he leaned against him. His eyes fluttered shut as Bill closed in on him, dragging his mouth across Tom's open lips.

"Later," Bill whispered, kissing him again before pulling away.

Tom whimpered audibly, not caring about reputation or appearances or anything but coming. He panted and strained forward again, intending to lock his hand around Bill's wrist and keep him near, but Bill slipped out of reach with a low laugh.

"Put your pants back on," Bill told him, and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Tom slumped onto the bed with a low, frustrated cry.

"And don't touch that cock ring," he added. "I'll come finish you off when you're ready, but not a minute before."

Tom groaned, clenched around the toy, and flipped his infuriating little brother the finger as Bill left the room, blowing him a jaunty kiss.

He tried to think of something, anything he could do to occupy the time besides staying right where he was and unsuccessfully trying to rub one out. Right now, even doing the dishes sounded alluring and somehow sexy. Soaping them up, spraying them down... Tom groaned and gingerly climbed off the bed, determined to find some kind of chore worth doing.

The toy bumped against his prostate and he had to brace himself against the door, shuddering. It was going to be an intensely long evening.


	3. Boys On Film

Tom found Bill in their joint office, perched on a swivel chair with one leg tucked under him, two dogs curled up at his foot. He waddled over to Bill, unable to manage anything more graceful with the plug hampering his every move, and sank directly to his knees, pride completely crushed under the onslaught of pure need that drove him now.

“Please,” Tom said outright, rubbing his cheek over Bill's thigh. “Please, I need it...god, Bill. Don't keep me waiting any longer.”

Bill stroked a hand over Tom's scalp, scratching lightly between the furrows of his cornrows. “Have you been good?”

“I haven't touched myself,” Tom said, being honest. There was always this one person in the world who could tell if Tom was lying.

“Have you rubbed up against stuff?” Bill said seriously. His fingers massaged over Tom's exposed temple.

“Ugh, Bill,” Tom groaned, becoming aware that very instant that he was rubbing against Bill's leg. He'd been coping with that almost-there sensation for so long that it was like scratching a persistent itch; no matter what pressure was applied, the need didn't go away.

Bill chuckled and stroked a hand down Tom's neck. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Let me just finish this and shut it down and we'll go to the bedroom, sound good?”

“Yes,” Tom said, eager, so frantic to get off that he didn't even question how long finishing 'this' might take. He eased himself against Bill's leg and Bill caressed his shoulder, the back of his neck, and along his cheek.

After a few more minutes of steady clicking of fingers over keys, Tom twisted around to get a good look at what Bill was doing. He'd been so eager before, he hadn't even processed whatever site Bill was browsing.

“Sex toys?” Tom said, incredulous. He began to climb to his feet, wincing. “You're getting _more_ sex toys?”

“Thinking ahead!” Bill replied cheerfully. He clicked a few more things and stood, grabbing Tom at the armpits and supporting him as he got to his feet. “You okay? Nothing weird, painful?”

“Can't think what's weirder than having a plug shoved up my ass,” Tom grumbled.

Bill's dark brow arched. “Oh, I don't know...wanting your _own twin_ to replace it with his cock?”

“That's normal for us,” Tom asserted.

“Not exactly normal for you,” Bill said, twining an arm around Tom and resting his head affectionately against Tom's.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Tom asked hopefully as they crossed the bedroom threshold together.

Bill stared at him as though he were daft. “Do you even remember how much effort it was to get that second one in?”

Tom winced, shifting from foot to foot and trying not to think about how even now, it kind of burned.

Bill kissed his cheek. “It's like gauging your ears,” he said. “Slow and careful stretching, you know? Or else we'll never fit something bigger in there without hurting you.” He tugged at one of Tom's lobes, making Tom wince again.

“I'm not gauging them big enough to put your finger through,” Tom said mutinously. “You already lead me around by the...nose.”

“By the cock, you mean,” Bill said, giving him a wide and slightly manic, yet somehow simultaneously sweet, grin. “Grab onto the bedpost and hold on tight.” He seated himself on the bed at the foot and indicated the space in front of him.

“Why; what are you going to--” Tom began, questioning his directions even as he obeyed. He stood at the foot of the bed and grasped each of the support posts that led to the arching canopy overhead.

Bill grasped his sweatpants and pantsed him. He grabbed one of Tom's buttocks, palming it, and leaned down to take the head of Tom's cock in his mouth.

Tom shouted, thrusting forward helplessly.

Bill pulled off and didn't even give him the usual withering glare he typically leveled when Tom inadvertently tried to choke him with his cock. He stroked Tom's hip and brought his other hand around to grip him by the base of his cock, which was beginning to throb fiercely again after subsiding to a dull ache. His full lips pressed a kiss to the now copiously-leaking tip before parting smoothly around the head and taking Tom in again, bobbing down and back up in quick, glorious strokes of his tongue.

“Oh yes,” Tom moaned. “Ahh, fuck.” He stroked his hands through the loose black strands of Bill's hair and did his best not to pump into Bill's mouth, not willing to risk the loss of those wonderful lips and tongue again.

Bill's thumbs pressed against the base of his cock. There was more pressure, then a flood of sensation thrummed through Tom's cock and he moaned. He snared his fingers in Bill's hair, stroking one hand over the hollow of Bill's cheeks as that wet mouth worked him. At the same time, Bill had stealthily returned a hand to Tom's rear.

The toy pressed against his prostate, beginning to strum back and forth as Bill moved it, playing Tom more surely than a single chord held quivering at the conclusion of a song. Tom forgot everything but Bill's mouth on his dick, the hand working the toy at his ass, and cradled Bill's face between both hands as he came with an unfettered yell. He spilled in brilliant bursts of sensation over Bill's tongue, drawing back to watch his come spatter over Bill's lips and jet a messy glob against one cheek. Bill wrinkled his nose up at Tom before grinning, one hand still lazily working Tom's cock as Tom began to shudder with the aftershocks.

Tom became aware that the unyielding hardness of the toy was gone, but he wasn't vacant. Bill was flexing a finger back and forth inside him.

“Like that?” Bill said, and reached up with a finger to flick at the stray smear of come Tom had left on his face. He popped it in his mouth, sucked on it, and when he was done, his tongue emerged to swipe at his full lower lip as though checking for stray droplets. His tongue moved back and forth, and Tom focused on the trailing tip of it as it moved.

“Nnng,” Tom replied, beginning to crumple forward as his knees weakened. Bill hastily disengaged his finger and scooted back fast as Tom toppled forward, rolling their bodies together on the bed.

Spent, Tom humped against Bill anyhow, imagining he was still hard after being left wanting for so long.

“Wanna do it again?” Bill husked against his ear, clenching a hand rhythmically over one of Tom's buttocks, like a great cat kneading to mark what was his.

“Mmf,” Tom protested, reaching between them to grip Bill through his sweats. Bill was rigid against his own stomach, the flesh hard in Tom's palm, and Tom yanked the waistband down, moving them enough to allow access. Tom closed his hand around the head of Bill's cock, spread the wetness at the tip around with his thumb, and began to wank Bill lazily. “Tomorrow. I'll do you.”

Bill laughed and wrapped his arms around Tom, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You do it so good,” he vowed. “No one does me like you, Tomi.”

“Or ever will,” Tom responded, kissing Bill's temple, his cheekbone, whatever beloved part he could reach. “Because I'll never stop.”

* * *

Tom was sweating and they weren't even under the glare of the lights yet.

It wasn't excitement over the impending photo shoot. They had done so many, even the fact that this was GQ bore little significance to Tom. It had all the trappings of the usual photo shoots; the bright lights, PAs running back and forth, fancy camera equipment set up on tripods, a computer workstation off to one side to get on-scene assessment of the digital prints.

As Tom shifted from one foot to the other, the true source of his discomfort manifested again. _"Are you sure this is safe?"_ he'd asked Bill as his twin seated the plug before they left the house.

Bill had stroked over his scalp with a soothing hand, tugged his ear to bring him into kissing range, and kissed down from his forehead to his mouth. “It's fine, don't worry. It's thick but short, it's going to keep you open for me.”

That response had done nothing to dampen Tom's frantic arousal and he'd thought he would have to strap his hard-on down with medical tape in order to get anywhere. Wrap it in gauze and fix it in place.

...He'd actually done that before. Thank god for huge jeans.

Bill drove them to the shoot over Tom's protests. Tom had been nervous as hell over Bill's driving ever since the accident, but succumbed to the arguments that he was in no condition to drive, as well as Bill's insistence that it had been the _other_ guy's fault, and if he'd been thinking fast enough to snap a cell phone pic of the plate, the bastard would be in jail by now.

Armed with the knowledge that Tom could call a halt to this any time, that Bill would let him take them aside and he'd make it better, Tom found himself perversely determined to get through the entire shoot. It wasn't meant for extended use, but Bill had been safely increasing the time Tom had been using a toy over the past few days. Tom knew for sure there was lube tucked away in that giant man-bag of his. Well, it was non-petroleum moisturizer, officially, but could be used as lube.

Cool, he had to play it cool, Tom reminded himself as he followed the PA toward their dressing room. They had discussed outfits for the past ten minutes while Tom tried not to shift from one foot to the other. He'd kept his arms folded to avoid tugging discreetly at the seat of his jeans.

The moment they were through the dressing room door Tom crowded Bill up against the wall, slamming the door shut with his foot and taking his mouth with wet, hungry kisses, nudging at his parted lips again and again. Cool didn't carry much weight when Bill was close to hand and a locked door was between them and everyone else. Bill made a noise of protest but his arms went around Tom, one hand trailing low to seek the curve of his ass through baggy jeans. He cupped and kneaded Tom's ass as Tom pawed at him, panting and shaking, so turned on it hurt.

“Do me here,” Tom muttered into Bill's ear.

Bill shivered and pushed him away. “No,” he said, with far too much willpower for someone who was rubbing his hard-on at the crease of Tom's hip and thigh.

“Bill...”

Shaking his head, Bill kissed Tom on the mouth, following it up with a sweet lick to his ear before pushing past him. “Oh, look, energy drinks,” he said, with all the enthusiasm of someone who'd no idea that beverages would be awaiting in their dressing room, as though it weren't on every performance rider or contract they ever signed.

“I need to come,” Tom begged, following Bill like a determined puppy, settling his hands on Bill's trim hips from behind.

“And I said no,” Bill replied, giving him the narrow glance that meant he was serious about it.

“Please, please...” Tom swept aside the black tail of Bill's hair and kissed the fading tattoo of their logo again and again. He licked around the circle with his tongue, tried not to hump Bill's ass, knowing it would only irritate him by this point, and reached around to unzip Bill's skinny jeans.

“Not now,” Bill said, relenting somewhat. He patted Tom's hands and pushed them away from his groin. “No, not right now, baby, we've got to be in makeup in ten minutes.”

“I can suck you off in five,” Tom vowed.

Bill twisted around in his arms and patted Tom's cheek. “Not without getting all hot and bothered and red-faced, you can't,” he replied. “And that might be difficult to explain to everyone on set, don't you think?”

Tom pressed forward, making a frustrated noise when Bill eluded him in a whirl of sweet-smelling cologne. Bill deposited an energy drink in his hands and moved for the far side of the dressing room. His eyes burned across the space between them, watching Tom as intensely as Tom was gazing right back at him.

“I love you, and suck on that instead,” Bill said, blowing him an air kiss. “Later. Okay?”

Tom groaned, wondering if he'd cool down if he stuck his junk in the miniature refrigerator they'd wheeled into the dressing room. He had a feeling it wouldn't help that much.

“If I start humping a light fixture, it's your fault,” Tom warned, adjusting himself in his pants.

“If that happens, I'll apologize for my poorly-mannered brother and drag you back in here,” Bill promised.

Tom's eyes kindled. “Why the hell should we wait, then? We can do it here, now...”

“I'd haul you back in here so I could hose you down,” Bill finished, clacking his tongue impatiently. “I'm not spreading you for the first time in ages across a dressing room couch or table, Tom.”

Tom pouted. He couldn't exactly help it. He was hard, he had something in his ass – Bill had _put_ something in there, like a promise for later – and Bill was in front of him smelling and looking incredibly good. Was it supposed to be his fault somehow that he wanted it any way he could get it?

Bill crossed the distance between them in a few quick strides, taking Tom's face in his hands. “Later. Later,” he promised, in between a couple of quick kisses. “Do you want me to take it out? This was a bad idea; I'm pushing you too much...”

“No, I'm fine,” Tom replied, wrinkling his nose. He took advantage of Bill's makeup-free face to deliver another kiss, then another, before Bill pulled free with a laugh.

“Five minutes,” Bill warned him, and turned his back on Tom to go change.

Tom groaned but gave in to the inevitable. He had to turn around, because Bill's skinny ass inevitably turned him on more, no matter how hot and horny he was at the time.

Over the next hour and a bit Tom was flushed and glowing, completely oriented on Bill through one take after another. Sometimes the shoot director would have him look _away_ from his twin; otherwise, he was still and silent, hands fisted at his sides, trying not to shift or move too much but watching Bill, always watching, lip playing over his tongue in a nervous flicker that gave the makeup artist palpitations. They tried out different outfits, different props.

They had Bill in a blue suit, while Tom wore the suit jacket under a leather one and Bill propped an arm on his shoulder. Bill kept flicking him little glances, asking with a single look whether he was still all right, needed a break or was doing okay, and Tom kept lowering his eyes or chin in a silent yes. The tension was building, though.

Bill changed into a black suit for cover shots and Tom changed his own to coordinate, all black with the black bandanna he'd been wearing.

Before they left the dressing room, Bill brushed his hand along Tom's shoulder. His eyes asked the question.

"I'm okay," Tom replied, and ducked his head. He was falling into tunnel vision now, focused on making it through the end of the shoot.

They did several more cover shots before changing again, Bill into a glittery wrap-around black jacket top and Tom into a baggy black shirt with a dark red over-vest.

Bill pursed his lips, looking over Tom's outfit.

"Don't say it," Tom warned.

Bill rolled his eyes and they returned to the shoot. "Let me know if you need a break, a real break," he murmured as they walked toward the group of people clustered around the workstation off to one side.

Tom gave him a terse nod.

Over the next stretch of the shoot they did separate pics while an interviewer got them off to one side, one after the other. Tom licked his lips, chattered on in answer to his questions, and tried not to shift too obviously in his seat.

The next costume change nearly killed him. Bill was in a pale tux with tails, spats that should have been silly but on him merely rounded out the effect of his outfit, and an elaborately tied lavender ascot. Once again Tom reached for his brother before they left the dressing room, and Bill eluded him, leaving only a chuckle behind.

Bill was an ethereal creature, slim and gorgeous and exuding raw sexuality at the same time.

Tom would never wear one of his twin's high fashion outfits, not for the world, but that didn't mean he couldn't admire the figure Bill cut in such a finely tailored suit. Now, they could make the time for him to admire it up close and personal...

When the art director had Tom sprawl on the white canvas with Bill straddled above him, his posture surprisingly dominant for such a dandified outfit, Tom had reached his limit. He was uncomfortably turned on as he cocked one leg up against the white-papered wall. The plug shifted inside him and Tom was sweating, giving the camera his best poker face. He was so horny he was about to climb Bill's leg like a pole.

They did the full measure of photos for that particular pose and Tom started to bite his lip again.

“We need twenty,” Bill announced, and held out a slim but strong hand to draw Tom to his feet.

Everyone nodded and the art director and photographer clustered over the computer tech's shoulder again, taking this at face value.

Tom trailed after Bill with his hands shoved in his pockets, face burning. He felt as though everyone _knew_ , had to know what he wanted so badly from his brother, he was about that transparent.

“Need another Red Bull,” Tom mumbled as he followed his twin toward the dressing room.

This time Bill was the one to shut the door and engage the lock with a decisive click.

“What do you--” Bill began, and bit down on his lip hard as Tom surged against him, pinning him to the wall.

“Please, please, please,” Tom begged, mindless with it. “I know you're not going to fuck me here but please, anything.” His voice was hoarse, stripped bare with naked desperation.

“Kiss me,” Bill ordered, and strained his head back when Tom moved to capture his lips. He added, “Not on the mouth.”

Tom sank to his knees with a careful wince, very much aware of the toy inside him. He stripped Bill's trousers down his thighs, taking them almost to the knee, and was pleased and unsurprised to find Bill's cock rosy and leaking at the tip, as eager for Tom's mouth apparently as Tom was to enclose him in it. He didn't bother with any tricks or finesse as he tucked his lips over his teeth and sucked Bill down.

Bill's hips jerked and the flat of one hand pounded against the wall. He made small whimpering noises as Tom sucked him down with an eagerness and hunger that had scarcely been rivaled. Tom moaned around Bill's dick, incapable of remembering there was propriety to be considered until Bill tugged at his ears. All he could concentrate on was working his mouth up and down, swallowing convulsively around the head as saliva pooled in his mouth, sucking the thick column of flesh that filled him up so good, he wanted it in him in an even more vital way. This was satisfying enough for now.

Tom's eyes rolled up to get a good look at Bill, his neckline flushing below his makeup, his beautiful lips parting, eyes closed in his pleasure. He loved doing this for Bill, anything that made his gorgeous tightly-wound brother lose control. There was something both good and special about licking and sucking on Bill's cock, sharing, making him feel amazing. Tom could barely contain a groan as he swallowed as much of Bill as he could. He was no pro, even if Bill did say he gave the best head in the world, but he got lost in his enthusiasm.

By contrast to the way Bill did him so good, humming and using his tongue and just generally going to town, Tom employed a rapid back and forth motion and kept as much of Bill in his mouth and throat as he could. He sucked and took Bill down, basically forcing Bill's cock to fuck his face.

He swallowed as much as he could, eyes smarting not so much from pain as the physical limit to what he could take. Bill's fingernails scratched below the hinge of his jaws, pet gently over his braids, and Tom groaned deep in his throat as he crowded against Bill's leg, enjoying that kind of friction as well as being unable to escape the plug in his rear. Bill gasped, tugging at Tom's braids but not with enough force to urge Tom off him.

“So good, Tomi,” Bill murmured, and in his voice was the promise a suppressed scream. “I'm...ahh, I'm...”

Tom worked his jaw and tongue more powerfully, turning his mouth into a wet velvet vacuum as he bobbed down on Bill. He stroked Bill's little hips beneath his thumbs and looked up the length of Bill's mostly-clothed body, the pale front of his suit and the silky length of the lavender ascot. Tom turned his attention back to sucking, moving to re-settle creaking knees beneath him and grunting as the toy shifted inside him.

The thought of those two things combined, the fullness inside him and the musky cock in his mouth, brought Tom off. He kept rubbing against Bill's leg as he sensed Bill tense up under his chin. Sitting back on his heels, he tongued at the head and pointed it for his open mouth, swallowing every last drop as Bill bathed his lips and tongue with come.

“Oh...ohh,” Bill panted, leaning against the door for support. He sagged down and put his arms around Tom, grinning over at him and nuzzling a flushed-brilliant cheek beside his. “So good, Tomi. Your turn?”

“I came,” Tom said, somewhat embarrassed about it. He thought maybe he should have asked, first.

Bill's eyes widened. “You were that worked up over sucking me off?”

Tom nodded. "Um, _yes,_ " he said pointedly.

"Beautiful," Bill praised, swarming into his lap and kissing his throat, his lips, even bestowing a loving nip to his earlobe.

Tom grunted as the toy shifted inside him again. It no longer felt amazing, only uncomfortable.

"Let's get up," Bill declared, petting Tom's deflating cock and looking down at the stain spreading on his jeans, expression neutral. "We should get that plug out of you."

"And get the come stain off me?" Tom asked, groaning a little. He couldn't remember the last time he'd come in his pants, so pent up he simply couldn't hold it in anymore. He hoped they wouldn't bring out any more disco balls or Ringmaster Bill outfits. "I sure as hell can't wear these out there."

A deviant smile curled Bill's lips. “Good thing it's time for a costume change, then.”


	4. Good Vibrations

Powering through the door on a surge of adrenaline, Tom grabbed Bill by the lapels of his expensive trench coat the instant the door was shut and locked. He backed up against the nearest wall and hauled Bill against him, groaning as his twin's lips found his jaw and kissed down his throat, leaving a burning path every place his mouth warmed. In the next instant, Tom found himself resenting their dogs more than he ever had as a crowd of excited pups clustered around their calves and ankles, yipping and nosing at their legs even as Tom tried to clutch Bill close to him.

“Nooo,” Tom moaned, rubbing up against Bill, hands flat against the back of Bill's waist. “Oh, god, Bill, I can't.” His knees were on the verge of folding and he was so turned on he _hurt_ , was literally in pain. After the shoot, they had retired back to the dressing room and Bill had ambushed him while he was stripping, re-inserting the plug with kisses and utmost gentleness, stroking his ass and the backs of his thighs and rubbing a soothing thumb against his balls. After giving him a break from the toy for the rest of the shoot, Bill had decided to give it back to Tom for the trip home, and Tom had given in. It had gotten him hard, of course, and as his wicked brother kissed him, he'd slipped a cock ring back on Tom before making him don his jeans again.

The whole car ride home had been an exercise in restraint for Tom. He'd wanted nothing more than to lean over the gap between their seats and give Bill a taste of his own medicine. In theory, at least; what he'd really wanted more than payback was to savor the taste of Bill on his tongue, wrap his lips around Bill's perfect cock and nurse at it until he made him come.

So Tom had shuddered and twitched in his seat as they made the long drive back to their home in Hamburg, and Bill had given him teasing sidelong glances, occasionally stroking Tom's left thigh, but not enough to satisfy. Only enough to keep him riled up, hard, wanting.

“I need your dick in my ass,” Tom mumbled against Bill's neck, as Bill half-turned to pet the nearest, tallest dog that was trying to bodily wrap himself around the twins.

“Go upstairs,” Bill told him, straightening and kissing the corner of Tom's mouth. “I'll take care of the babies.”

“Really!?” Tom said eagerly.

Bill kissed him again, harder, lingering to suck on his bottom lip for a second. “Yes, really. I've kept you waiting long enough, right?”

Nodding, Tom stayed where he was until Bill backed away, grabbing for the dog leashes they kept hung by the door. He watched Bill clip the leashes on two of their boys and waited until Bill gave him serious eyes, jerking his chin in the general direction of the stairs.

“Go on,” Bill told him, reaching out to pet the tips of his fingernails against Tom's cheeks. “I'm not going to make you walk the dogs when you're this worked up. His eyes crinkled up in a brief, mischievous grin.

“Love you,” Tom managed, turning to waddle for the stairs. If he'd been capable, he would have run, but as Bill had pointed out already, he was in pretty bad shape.

“It's going to be so good, Tomi,” Bill's voice informed him from the living room.

When Tom turned, tonguing at his lip for a last glance, Bill was already gone, whisking the dogs with him out the front door. He walked up the stairs slowly, the plug shifting in him with each step, and tried not to imagine Bill's cock going in and out, replacing the toy with all of that hard, gorgeous flesh. It would only make him harder, more excited, and he couldn't find release without Bill so there was no point in playing around with it.

The two remaining dogs had wagged their tails but remained at the door when Tom went upstairs, so he walked through the upstairs hallway shedding his coat, squirming with anticipation and nerves. His cock was hard, so hard in his pants he was sure he could press iron with it.

When he reached Bill's bedroom he stripped, setting aside each piece of clothing and drawing it out as long as possible, folding every item and piling it on a chair beside Bill's vanity, which was plastered over with pictures of them from various tours, blocking out almost the entire mirror but for an oval in the center that left room for Bill to view his face while putting on makeup. Tom hunted up a towel and spread it out over the comforter, looked around, and licked his lips.

One hand rubbed down his hip and he touched back there, seeking out the head of the plug with his fingertips before retreating. He fisted his hand and held it clenched against his thigh, closing his eyes as he let himself think about Bill taking the plug out, pressing inside...

“Fuck,” Tom swore. He climbed onto the bed with another fleeting curse for their dogs. He loved them _so much_ but when the anticipation had been building all day, or in this instance, for days, rearranging their sex life around the puppies was an abysmal jolt of reality.

Tom lay on his stomach, folded his arms, and rested one burning cheek against his forearm. It took so long that he was dozing, his arousal quieted to a pleasant, omni-present thrum throughout his body.

At last the front door slammed and Tom's entire body lurched. He got up onto his hands and knees, all but trembling with his renewed anticipation.

Footfalls thundered up the stairs, not followed for once by a flurry of scrambling dog paws.

Tom twisted his head to look when he sensed a presence filling the doorway.

Bill stood poised there, leaning against the frame with one hand, cheeks red from the cold and exertion. He took in several quick, gulping breaths, his brown eyes wide and avid as he surveyed naked Tom waiting for him. He was holding something behind his back.

“Good boy,” Bill purred, and unfurled his trench coat like a flasher. He was wearing the black Italian men's suit that he'd worn for part of the shoot, the one he'd been wearing when he had dragged Tom off for their impromptu 'break.'

Tom groaned, kneeling back on his heels.

“I could tell how excited you were getting over me,” Bill said softly, revealing what he'd kept behind his back. It was the black top hat. “During the shoot. You couldn't take your eyes off me, except when you were so horny you couldn't let yourself look.”

“True,” Tom admitted. He couldn't look away from Bill. The slim line of the suit was cut to fit, emphasizing Bill's trim figure to advantage.

“You make fun of me for being a fashion whore,” Bill continued, pacing toward him. With a fillip of his hand he reversed the hat over one arm, tumbling it top over brim and setting it neatly on his head, which had been styled into a back-combed pompadour instead of the mohawk for the second half of the shoot. “But I think you like it. You like it when your little brother looks so hot, don't you?”

Tom simply groaned, his hips jerking forward helplessly in wordless response.

“The way you can't admit it when you want your little brother to fuck you,” Bill continued, reaching the bed and grasping one pole that rose up to support the arched canopy. His tongue emerged from his mouth to dwell pinkly against his full mouth, bled colorless by the cold. “Unless you really, really want it.”

Tom kept his eyes desperately on Bill and he knew this was the cue. “I want it now,” he said hoarsely, dropping a hand down to his thigh. “Oh, god, Bill, I want your cock so bad. Give it to me?”

Bill rewarded him with the flash of a sudden grin. He stepped around the bed to stand at the foot, positioning himself behind Tom. His arms went around him from behind and he pressed his entire suit-clothed body against Tom's back, gusting warm breath against the side of Tom's neck.

“Good boy,” Bill crooned, and skimmed his lips down one neck tendon. “You're close, so close to getting what you want.” He thrust his pelvis against Tom, driving him forward, digging his clothed erection against Tom's bare ass. One of his hands skimmed up and down Tom's front, trailing his nails lightly, too light to leave a mark, from hip up to collarbone and back again.

“Please,” Tom moaned, loving the press of Bill's body, but needing so much more. “Please, Bill, can I have your cock?”

Bill was quiet a moment, stroking Tom's bare stomach and hips. “We'll see,” he said mysteriously.

“I'll do whatever you want, just fuck me,” Tom pleaded, pushing his ass back, begging for any kind of contact. “Bill...Bill, fuck me.”

“That's nice, that's so nice,” Bill cooed, running his strong fingers down Tom's nape, along the tensed muscles in his back. He pressed kisses down Tom's skin from the spot behind his ears and used his nails to tease from the backs of Tom's hips down his buttocks.

“Please, oh god, take it out,” Tom groaned. “Give me your cock, Bill, I need it so bad.”

Bill pressed another kiss to Tom's back, his tongue emerging to flick at Tom's spine, and he trailed his hand down into the crack of Tom's ass. He guided Tom into a new position, bending him at the waist and making him brace himself on hands and knees on the bed.

“Yes, yes,” Tom chanted, rocking rhythmically and reaching behind himself to spread his cheeks with one hand, to give Bill better access. “Want it, want you.” He was losing coherence in the all-consuming rage of desire that was coursing through him, hammering through each vein and vessel.

Bill took hold of the toy, pressing it more firmly into Tom's body before he began to rock it back and forth, first pressing it deeper, then rotating it around.

Tom lowered his head and licked at his lips as the toy grazed his prostate with Bill's movements. He didn't want to admit how good it felt. He was so hard, he knew he was going to burst the instant Bill took the cock ring off him. It was tormenting to be so out of control of his own climax, but on another level, it fit into the way Bill dominated every aspect of his life. It wasn't wrong, or awkward or humiliating or demeaning, none of a host of negative words other people might attach, to submit himself to Bill like this; it was another kind of erotic charge.

“You're doing so good, Tomi,” Bill whispered behind him, stroking the flat of Tom's back above his buttocks. “Hold on a little longer, okay?”

“Nnng,” Tom responded, trying not to rub himself into the bedclothes. For one thing, it wasn't going to do any good to try and make himself harder when he couldn't get off that way; for another, Bill was in charge of when and how he came, so the sooner Tom fell in line with that expectation, the easier things would go.

Bill began to pull the plug out, moaning when Tom did. His free hand kept up a soothing, steady caress from thigh up the curve of Tom's ass as he was vacated.

“'s good,” Tom slurred, pushing back as the tip left him. It really did feel good to have the plug pulled free, but he was even more excited to know what would come next.

Something blunt and unyielding pressed against his entrance and slithered inside with barely a pause. It was cool and the rounded tip went in. Tom's head jerked up. “Bill!” he cried out hoarsely, knowing one thing for sure – that was _not_ his brother.

“One last thing,” Bill said, sounding breathless. “To make one hundred percent, absolutely, without a doubt sure you're ready for my cock.”

“Fuck you,” Tom groaned, lifting his ass anyhow as he was filled with a weirdly wonderful slide of thick, rubbery cock. It was bigger than the plug and Tom had the sense he'd finally graduated to something of Bill's girth. Before Bill had worked it more than halfway inside, he began fussing around with something that clicked against his nails.

A low buzz filled the room.

“Aaaagh, god damn it!”

Tom's fervent cursing was the only sound for a moment to compete with the hum of the vibrator nosing steadily deeper as Bill rotated the toy, easing it deeper. The vibration seemed to set Tom's whole belly on fire. His balls were drawn up tight, his cock _hurt_ , and he was pushing back before he knew it. Bill pushed it all the way in with a flick of his wrist and kept it pulsing there.

“Fuck...nnng, fuck...” Tom whispered, nearly whimpering. “Gotta come, gotta come.” He wasn't even sure he'd said that last bit aloud. The need to come was pulsating through his whole body now, not merely confined to his cock and aching balls.

“You're doing so, so good,” Bill whispered in turn, sounding as though he was panting. Something hard bumped against Tom's leg, the rasp of cloth moving against him for an instant before pulling away, and it let Tom know his twin was turned on that much.

“ _Have_ me,” Tom pleaded, knowing that Bill wanted to. He was right here, spread open and waiting.

Bill gave a broken little moan. “Not just yet,” he replied, petting the curve of Tom's ass.

The vibrator began to buzz harder and Bill stroked it back and forth inside Tom. “This has got five settings,” Bill told him, conversational. “It's on number three right now. I wonder how much higher I'd have to turn it before...”

Tom grunted incoherent response, rocking back against the steady thrusts Bill was delivering with his firm grip on the toy. He was sweating, his forehead was beaded with it and he was wishing he'd kept a bandanna on, at least, and his cock was harder than it had ever been in his life. If he tried to speak now, it would only be “fuck me, fuck me” and he'd already tried that, so...

Bill was waiting for something else.

Bill moaned when Tom dipped his head, bracing his arms against the bed and widening his legs to try to spread himself better. He pulled the vibrator out until only the flared tip was inside, changed the angle, and pushed it all the way inside again, turning up the vibe setting.

Tom shouted, his eyes rolling back in his head. The head of the dildo was strumming right over his prostate. Bill held it there, pulsing it back and forth. His other hand trailed down Tom's thigh and one thumb moved as though to try and stretch Tom's delicate hole open wider, but brushed over the perineum instead, digging in firmly.

There was no Tom, only a train wreck of sensation, a shell of a person. It slammed through Tom's body and left him contorting helplessly, shaking in a powerful perfect storm of overloaded nerves and pleasure centers. It was like coming, but instead of just his dick, his whole body was involved. Tom twitched as though he'd been shocked as waves of it slammed through him, making him moan and curse something heartfelt and filthy and part Bill's name, all sincere.

Afterward he lay trembling on the bed, probably drooling, too satisfied to check. He looked down. The cock ring was still on; his dick was still red and hard and ready for action.

“What the fuck was that?” Tom rasped, sounding as though he'd smoked about five cigarettes at once.

“Anal orgasm,” Bill told him, sounding absolutely delighted with himself. “Did you like it?”

“Nnnng,” Tom replied, twitching weakly as an aftershock speared through him. He reached for his cock. “Get on me?”

“Yes, yes,” Bill said, sounding excited. He patted Tom's ass, flicked the vibrator off, and eased it out of Tom. “Gonna make you feel so good, Tomi.”

“You already have,” Tom mumbled into the bedclothes, not sure if he could cooperate enough to move; he was that pliant.

“Turn over and scoot up the bed,” Bill instructed. “I want you on your back.”

“Oh, god,” Tom said, fresh desire coursing through him. They were really going to do it now, and unlike all the prep, this time Tom would get to _see_ it when it went in. The whole week, he'd been on his face while Bill worked him with fingers and toys. Now he was getting his reward and he'd see Bill's face, he'd see Bill's cock going in him; it was going to be so good. Even though Tom felt spent already, as he began to move, shifting up the bed in a slow crawl, his throbbing cock returned to the forefront of his attention.

Bill stripped at the foot of the bed and Tom wasn't so far gone he couldn't enjoy it; he fixated on every piece removed and cast aside, the proud arch of Bill's dark brow, the sensual smirk on his full mouth, the allure of each creamy expanse of skin revealed. He loved the dusting of hair on Bill's arms, on his skinny calves – the only two places Bill didn't shave or wax, testament to his innate manliness. At last, Bill stood there in his skimpy black briefs, more close-fitting than the usual boxers he wore because of the Italian suits he knew he'd be wearing for the shoot.

It bulged obscenely in front. Tom licked his lips.

“Please,” Tom said faintly, knowing it wouldn't hurt to play nice.

“Please what?” Bill responded, putting his black-manicured hands on his hips.

Tom lifted his chin toward Bill, eyes fixed on his groin. His cock was stretching out the fabric, and if Bill re-arranged himself just so, the red tip of him would clear the underwear all by itself.

“I want it so much,” Tom said honestly. “Fuck me, please.”

Bill gave him a truly dazzling smile, bigger than any he gave the cameras, more tender than that he gave the fans with the way his eyes crinkled at Tom. “I will, because you ask me so nicely.” He peeled down his briefs and stepped out of them.

The sight of his hard, red cock made Tom's mouth water.

Bill leaned against the bed, taking himself in hand a moment and stroking, his eyes dark and intense on Tom.

Tom settled back against the bedclothes, one aching mass of need. He couldn't even touch himself, though he glanced down to see his cock lying hard and red as Bill's against his own stomach. He reached down, angled his hips up, and prodded his own hole with a finger, making as though to spread himself for Bill.

“That's mine!” Bill snapped, his eyes widening. He shook his head and grinned ruefully over at Tom. “Oh, you're driving me _crazy_ , Tomi...”

Tom widened his own eyes at Bill, shaking his head. Who was driving whom crazy? He arched his back a little and spread his legs as Bill reached for the lube at the foot of the bed, squeezed some into his palm, and held Tom's eyes as he began to stroke himself.

“Just slick it down and stick it in,” Tom gasped.

Bill shuddered and closed his eyes, but he snapped the lube shut and tossed it aside. He crawled over the bed toward Tom, touching him as he reached him. He caressed his hands over Tom's insteps, ran his fingers over Tom's shins, skimmed delicate nails up Tom's inner thighs. He smoothed his palms over Tom's hips and settled Tom into position, giving him dark, intent eyes the whole while.

Tom nodded, touching his lip with his tongue and keeping his eyes on Bill's, maintaining their connection.

Biting his lip, Bill hovered at his entrance, reaching down to guide himself as he rested the head of his cock against Tom's hole. He breathed in and out, still watching Tom as though expecting him to change his mind.

Or waiting for something else.

“I love you,” Tom breathed, setting the words free with barely enough breath to carry them to Bill.

Bill nodded, took a breath, and moved forward, pressing his cock into Tom.

“Ahh...ahhh!” Tom grabbed at the bedclothes, expecting resistance, even pain, and finding none. Bill's cock pushed into him in a smooth, pleasurable glide, sending up hot sparks in his belly and making his cock twitch sluggishly, but it didn't hurt in the least. They were past that now.

They both moaned as Bill's cock breached him. Bill kept moving atop him, keeping up a steady pressure as he braced himself on his hands over Tom and let his own weight bear down, pushing his cock all the way in and filling Tom up all at once.

“Oh...oh, _oh_ ,” Tom panted, trying to find the words to tell Bill how good it was, clutching for Bill's nearest shoulder when breath failed him.

“Tomi,” Bill said, drilling his hips into Tom in slow, precise circles. He turned Tom's name into a moan from his lips. “Oh, you feel so good...so hot...you're squeezing me.”

Tom was dripping with sweat now, reaching the limit of his endurance. He could barely lift a leg to spread himself better, to make the angle of Bill's entry steeper, but he managed and draped it over Bill's hip, reaching up to keep it in place with one shaking arm as Bill moved on top of him.

“You want me to take the cock ring off?” Bill murmured, his face running with sweat the same as Tom's, but somehow he looked gorgeous while Tom was sure he was only red-faced.

“Nnn...” Tom shook his head. “Not until you're ready. Otherwise I'll come.”

Bill cried out and wobbled atop him, plunging into Tom in a series of quick, hard thrusts that slammed their bodies together on the bed. Tom groaned and reached one hand up to brace himself against the headboard. He was so full, so needy he could be coming already. The sensation coursing through his body was beyond good, approaching the lassitude that took hold after orgasm, something like what had swept through him earlier but the center of his pleasure was coming from where they were joined.

"You like that?" Bill moaned, pressing forward and making their bodies slide together hotly. He stretched over Tom to kiss his lips and the blunt club of his dick inside was amazing, only good sensation with no pain, opening him up with ease after all that he'd taken to get him here over the past few days.

"'s good," Tom slurred. He clenched his leg around Bill harder, trying to surge up against him and bring them closer at the same time. He slipped and lost his leg clutch; he was strong, he took pride in his stamina in bed, but right now he was already boneless. He spread his legs to take it, but Bill's pace was slowing.

"Mm," Bill moaned, and kissed and nosed at his mouth until Tom rucked his hips upward, trying to get him to move.

"Need more," Tom entreated him. "Fuck me, fuck me..."

Bill moved a hand from the bedclothes to Tom's chest, spreading it over his heart. "Tom," he moaned, and began to bang into him harder. His face was rapt, his eyes slitted nearly closed.

"Give it to me," Tom panted.

Bill merely nodded, bracing over him and digging his heels in, getting more leverage as he plowed into Tom with long, powerful strokes. He reached up and swiped at his face with the back of his hand, not cleaning sweat away so much as rearranging it. He was a skinny guy, he came across as frail, even delicate, but when it came to sex he was capable of giving it to Tom for as long as he wanted...and Bill liked to go for a long time. Tom had begun to worry that now was going to be one of those times, that Bill was going to fuck him into the mattress all night, maybe pull out, shift their positions, go for even longer.

Tom relaxed as he watched Bill's face above him assume the focused look. Bill was really fucking into him now, seeking his climax as he hovered above Tom and shifted them up the bed, grabbed at Tom to haul him close, pounded into him with little groans and vocalizations. Tom licked his lips and made himself tighten down. He reached for his cock, getting in a few strokes before remembering he couldn't finish on his own so he concentrated on touching Bill instead. He reached for his face, fingers skimming along his jaw as Bill surged close toward him, mouth open, eyes fixed on Tom.

"Yes, yes," Tom whimpered. He humped up and ran his hands down Bill's sweaty back. It was as though he'd come already, yet still had the overwhelming need to come _again_.

"Tom," Bill whispered, low and intense. His eyes speared through Tom more effectively than anything else, stripping him of pretense or anything but the fact that he was so gone for Bill, completely his, ready to offer him anything within his power to give.

"Please," Tom offered up, arching his back.

Bill nodded and reached down between them. He stopped his movement for an instant, his hand passing down between them over Tom's slick skin and undoing the ring, getting it off and casting it aside. They both groaned at the same instant again and Bill picked up where he'd left off, slapping his hips against Tom's ass as he sought to find the rhythm they'd fallen into again.

Tom reached up to encircle Bill's neck with his arms, trying to get them closer than their current joining. He wanted everything.

Bill's mouth came into range and he kissed Tom's chin. "Come," he enjoined. "Come for me, Tom."

Tom tightened down with an involuntary cry, digging his fingers into Bill's shoulders and scraping blunt anxious fingers over his damp skin. "Ah...ahh!" He could feel it hitting their bellies, even splashing as high as their diaphragms as he came between them in a long, ecstatic rush.

All he could do past that point was ride out Bill's thrusts, grinning up at him with an overflow of affection as Bill gentled from pounding him into the mattress to rocking Tom's body with his cock, still rubbing up against his prostate with almost every stroke in a way that made Tom _wish_ he could be interested again. He palmed Bill's cheek with his hand, smiling at the way Bill nuzzled into the touch, panting, still working for his climax.

"Billi," Tom whispered. "Come for _me_."

With a stuttering little cry, Bill's eyes flared wide and he stared down at Tom. His hips pulsed and he held himself over Tom. His fingers curled over Tom's skin and he dropped down, making Tom groan as his cock pressed up inside to an uncomfortable degree as he kissed at Tom's lips. He kissed and kissed him, licking into each part of his mouth as he stilled inside Tom.

At last, with reluctance, he pulled away when he'd tasted every corner of Tom's mouth and they'd whispered a few sweet loving things back and forth.

When he pulled out, Tom had to moan at the loss. He was _so_ not done with having Bill have him like that.

“Worth the wait?” Bill asked him, grinning.

Tom punched his shoulder and moved at once to rub soothingly at a spot that wouldn't even bruise, considering how kitten-weak his swing had been. “You know it was.”

"Good," Bill said smugly. He tumbled to the bed beside him and snuggled up close. "Nap now, more orgasms later?"

"You read my mind," Tom replied, licking his lips.

Bill reached down to palm his ass. "Not difficult," he scoffed. "Both ours are always in the gutter."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Tom said, wedging a contentedly limp arm behind his head. Now if only he could obtain a cigarette without having to move, everything would be absolute bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I first read about anal orgasm in a wonderfully-written story on the Nifty archive called "The Story of Tim," a BDSM love story. I've done a bit of research and it seems to be a bit of a subjective concept, but I rolled with it. :D It's all for the sake of the porn~


	5. Makin' Love

Tom woke at the swipe of the warm, damp cloth moving over his stomach, gathering up sticky release. He groaned, half appreciation and half remonstrance for the way he had been rendered utterly boneless. He lay where he was, contemplating soreness as Bill cleaned up all the traces and swirled the rough fibrous touch of the cloth down into Tom's sensitive cleft. There was an ache but the satisfaction far exceeded it.

“Morning,” Bill purred, setting aside the cloth and sprawling over Tom's chest, all sharp elbows and sharper grin.

“Morning my tapped ass,” Tom returned. “It's still the middle of the night.”

Bill's right brow tweaked up. “Very observant, Tom,” he teased, and continued, “I would've thought I'd fucked all of the brains out of you by now...maybe I should have tried harder?”

“I have no complaints,” Tom assured him. He tried to get up on his elbows to give Bill a proper kiss, but couldn't manage it and groaned, slumping onto his back again. Bill's thorough handling had temporarily turned Tom's stomach muscles into useless jelly. “When did you get that kind of stamina?”

“It's all part of my master plan to practice for the tour,” Bill replied, kissing his chin, shifting higher on Tom's chest, and dropping a kiss to his mouth. He dwelled there a moment, sharing tongues, before pulling back with a last nip for his upper lip. “And lasting a long time while fucking.”

“Well, it was amazing,” Tom assured him, reaching up to lace his fingers into the horsetail ends of Bill's hair.

They kissed for more long moments and Tom thought he might be getting hard until Bill pushed up onto his elbows again.

“Want to shower?” Bill offered.

“Mm,” Tom responded, scrunching his face up. The wet washcloth was a nice touch – he always tried to do that for Bill – but he really did like to be clean after sex. And before sex. Cleanliness in general was a good thing. And depending on how thorough they were, Tom had pleasant visions of someone getting eaten out later. At this point, he was so full of goodwill he didn't care which one of them got it – or both.

Both; there was a thought worth keeping on the to-do list...

“Tom,” Bill was waving a hand in front of his face. “Dinner? Shower? Movie?”

“Not necessarily in that order,” Tom agreed, grasping Bill's hand out of the air and holding it to his face. He placed a kiss on the palm and made a more determined effort to sit up. “And dogs, they need some loving.”

“They always want loving,” Bill replied with a laugh.

“And we always have love to give,” Tom said. He grinned as he heard a thump-thump outside the door that indicated someone was wagging their tail against a baseboard. The dogs had an uncanny ability to pick up on the fact that the twins were talking about them.

“Shower first,” Bill decided, sitting up. He slanted a smoky look over one pale shoulder. “You want to join me?”

“Unless you think you have a better offer,” Tom replied, delivering up a smirk in response.

Bill rolled away from him and Tom caught at the nearest shoulder as Bill reached the edge. "Hey," he said, so soft it was almost sub-vocal. "Thank you."

His only response was a solar flare of gorgeous smile. Bill waved as he proceeded to the door to let in a tumble of squirming-happy puppies.

The master bathroom had the largest set-up in the house. There was a standing bath, an inset jacuzzi, an adjoining closet with a toilet and bidet, and what Tom considered to be the crowning glory - an ample glass-walled stall with multiple adjustable shower heads and a tile bench that they'd had installed with waterproof padding on the seat. A sturdy metal rail ran along the perimeter. For convenience, they usually showered alone in one of the single baths off one of their bedrooms, but when they were feeling frisky, the big shower was where they led one another.

Within moments of stepping inside the shower, turning up the spray on all the shower heads and waiting for Bill to join him after shutting the dogs out, Tom found himself pinned against a tiled wall, opening his mouth to an onslaught of kisses. He stroked his hands down Bill's seal-sleek back, loving the aggression in Bill's stance as his twin slipped a knee between them to part Tom's thighs, grasping Tom by the shoulders as he connected their mouths again and again.

"You want to shower?" Bill whispered against the corner of his mouth, "or do you want to be washed?" He nipped at Tom's lip and kissed his way into his mouth again.

Tom held onto Bill's waist and tried not to shake with excitement. He knew what Bill was really asking; Bill would be thorough about it, to make things easy and clean for later loveplay.

"Wash me," he husked, and trapped Bill's bottom lip in both his.

"Mmm," Bill hummed, and caressed Tom from collarbones to hips. He pressed a finger into his cleft, prodding at his hole with two fingers but staying outside the ring of muscle for now.

Tom groaned, ready to turn around and spread himself at once, held back only by the thought that lube washed away so damned fast under the powerful spray. He wanted Bill buried in him to the knuckles - hell, up to the balls - but that would have to wait for later.

They showered, soaping up with gel and the scented bars of soap Bill kept stocked in the caddy, trading leisurely kisses and swipes of the shower sponges. Bill used a flowery sort of scrubby and Tom used a more manly loofah-style. In the end they both got clean, and that was what mattered. When Bill turned around to have Tom wash his back, Tom got so excited he pretty much crowded Bill against the nearest rail and humped his leg.

“Tom...Tomi,” Bill called out, though whether to urge him on or get him to stop was unclear.

Tom grunted and palmed his cock, rubbing it in the suds-slick crease of Bill's ass. It wasn't the right kind of lubricant, though, and that penetrated his awareness even as he fitted the tip of his dick right _there_ , the place that held a scorching heat just for him.

“You want to?” Bill asked him, panting, turning his head away from the spray of the nearest shower head. Drops trembled and clung to his full mouth and the strong line of his jaw.

Tom leaned over to lick a few of them away, chasing them with his tongue and sharing water-flavored kisses with Bill. He was offering his ass, and as Tom smoothed his hands down those little hips he did want to, and that was one reason there was good padding on the shower bench.

“I want you to,” he replied, and realized as he said it that it was true. He wasn't done with the intense pleasure that Bill could dole out.

Bill arched against him, twisting away in the next instant fast enough to leave Tom breathless.

“Then turn around,” Bill purred, “because I still need to wash you. Okay?”

Tom complied with all the eagerness within him. He braced himself with a knee on the shower bench as Bill paid extra attention to his ass, inside and out.

When they were done, it was a struggle to part mouths and bodies long enough to towel each other dry.

“I want dinner,” Bill said abruptly, patting his hair dry with a last vigorous fluff of the towel over his head. “Aren't you hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Tom realized with some surprise. They'd gone at it for who knew how long, fallen asleep and he hadn't yet checked a clock, and the catered lunch table they had browsed together had been hours ago. More than long enough for the plaintive call of his stomach to assert itself.

“You want pizza, pasta, waffles, or...?” They could get carry-out, there were PAs who would essentially do their bidding on call, but it was late and even in Hamburg there weren't many all-night food options.

“Waffles take too much time,” Tom decided, “and so does pasta.”

“Pizza it is,” Bill concluded, and they exchanged rueful looks.

“Some day, one of us is going to have to learn how to cook.” Tom sighed. That was the nice thing about their mom coming for the occasional pity-visit.

“I am not your housewife!” Bill declared. 

Tom blinked over at him. “Never said you were,” he replied easily.

“Okay,” Bill said, but he still looked wary. “So long as we're clear I'm not the woman.”

Tom raised his brows. “I'm pretty sure I'm the one who just got fucked in the ass tonight,” he replied. “And it's not going to be the last time.”

Bill made a noise. “Better not be,” he said. His brows wiggled and he grinned over his shoulder. “Otherwise I got you all clean with no fun to be had.”

Tom had to pause and grip the counter a moment to regain his bearings. He should be inured to statements like that, he thought, but he was ridiculously turned on. Now wasn't the right time, considering there were still dogs to be seen to, dinner to be made...

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, as Bill opened the door and unleashed the hounds. He was having a hard time orienting himself on the real-life prospects of getting leashes, putting on clothes, finding shoes, somehow making sure his rubbery legs didn't collapse under him while he went walking their dogs two by two...

“I'll get the dogs again,” Bill told him.

Tom stared agape at his twin for an instant. “Who are you, and what did you do with my Bibi?” he demanded.

Bill rolled his eyes expressively. “God, Tom, I'm not your teddy bear. And do you _want_ to walk the dogs?”

“No, no,” Tom back-pedaled, raising both hands. “That's fine; no, I don't think I could manage.”

“Which is why I offered,” Bill said, giving Tom the finger. “But if you're going to question it...”

“I didn't mean it,” Tom said, very sincere. “Thank you, Bill. I love you.”

Bill simply grinned at that. “You're doing double duty for the rest of the week,” he promised.

“And there's the catch,” Tom sighed.

It was a clause he could live with.

He hunted up a pair of comfortable sweats no longer deemed suitable for public appearance and tied on a matching bandanna, seeking out the kitchen as Bill jostled with an excited group of dogs who knew what “walk” meant. Tom grinned as Bill clipped leashes on a big dog and a little dog, got flustered as he realized what he'd done, and swapped the dackel's leash for the larger dog. One would think the most efficient way to walk their dogs would be two trips of one large, one small each, but their dogs defied logic. The dackels were very good at riling up the bigger dogs, and small enough to get tangled between leashes and legs fit to topple fellow dog and owner. Thus the dackels could only be walked together, one in each hand, or separately, which their princess seemed to prefer. After setting the leashes to rights, Bill was out the door and Tom gave him a jaunty wave.

Once Bill had gone, Tom all but collapsed into the nearest chair, taking a moment before he went to toss the pizza in the oven. His knees were still wobbly. It was a sign of either extreme muscle fatigue – unlikely, given the fact that he was still in very good shape if not as ripped as the year before – or having been fucked but good. As he pulled himself together, he made a mental note to book an extremely romantic cabin for their Maldives trip that year. Bill had earned it, from shoots in Africa to his stunning performance at the EMAs after his car accident and as always, taking care of Tom in bed so well.

The dog-walking and the pizza cooking in the oven finished up at about the same time. They had a dining room, but it was rarely used. Instead, they took their laden plates to the family room, where dogs curled up at their feet and each end of the couch, while Bill cuddled up against Tom and they put on one of the unwatched DVDs from their ever-growing collection.

“Romance?” Tom protested, because Bill had made the selection.

“Hush,” Bill responded. “You're in a very romantic mood, you just don't know it yet.”

“I could be in a Rachel McAdams mood,” Tom replied, pinching his twin's ribs and earning a very dirty look as Bill tried to balance his plate and fend off a dackel who insisted she was entitled to pizza at the same time.

“Keep it to yourself or you'll find me in an Eric Bana mood,” Bill shot back, sour.

Tom grinned and leaned over to assault Bill with a pizza-flavored kiss that was not fought off as enthusiastically as Bill seemed to want him to believe.

“Oh god,” Tom said, recognizing the signs as they were finishing up their pizza and Bill was beginning to sniffle, raising one hand to wipe furtively at an eye as though checking for nonexistent mascara. “This is one of those crying movies, isn't it?”

“It's not!” Bill insisted. “I've heard it's beautiful. Very meaningful, it reminds you to make use of the time we all have.”

“Who told you that, Mom?”

“Natalie,” was the reply.

Tom groaned and did a quick check for couch-side kleenex, though he knew most of the tears would end up on his sweatshirt. He kept an eye on Bill's condition and was about to turn the TV off when he received a lapful of Bill. The dog behind Tom yelped and vacated the couch at once.

“I need kisses, Tom,” Bill told him. His eyes reflected moving shapes from the glow of the television, and they were watchful on Tom. The tip of his tongue settled at the corner of his mouth. “Deep, toe-curling kisses.”

Tom turned the TV off and tossed the remote to the other end of the couch, making the dackel give him a baleful look and scramble for safety. He tugged his twin down into the circle of his arms and closed his mouth over Bill's, cradling the back of his head in one hand. His thumb stroked over the skin at Bill's nape, the blazon of their band's tattoo.

 _I love you,_ Tom's kisses told him, and _I need you,_ as well as the always-present current of _I want you so much._ He kissed Bill hard, tongue stroking against his in imitation of their most intimate connection, made out with him in lazy swipes of tongue and soft lip-nibbles, and stroked down his back, kissing tenderly against and into Bill's mouth until Bill's toes did, indeed, curl against his thighs.

"Love this," Bill said, breathless, when they broke for air at last, and in it was the unspoken promise that underlaid the entire core of their existence. He looked uncertain when he continued, "Tomi, in me?"

Tom licked his lips, running a hand up Bill's ribs and avoiding ticklish spots, settling his palm on the center line of Bill's chest. He shook his head, saying quickly, "Want you inside me, I mean, you already are, but..."

Bill nodded and set his hand on Tom's chest. "In here," he whispered, "but you need more, right?"

Tom kept his eyes on Bill and smiled his response.

There was a stash of lube in just about every room of the house that Tom, giddy in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, had gone around seeding optimistically like a promise for later. All this time had passed between then and now; and that promise had blossomed, apparently, because they were still as apt to do it in any given room of the house as they had been, back then. As Tom stripped his shirt off, Bill excavated the tube from the couch with a grin more calculating than shy.

"Turn around," Bill whispered, closing his lips over Tom's earlobe and poking the tip of his tongue through the gauge.

Tom grunted, stilling a childish retort of 'don't wanna.' It could be better from behind, he knew, both from Bill's enthusiastic vocalizations on the subject and his own experience, but he preferred the dual intimacy of looking into Bill's face as well as penetrative sex.

"I'll make it good, Tomi," Bill wheedled.

"Can I sit on it, in a little while?" Tom bargained. "Before we finish?"

"Ooh." Bill looked intrigued. "Um, yes!" He licked his lips and gave Tom an irrepressible grin, reaching out to stroke Tom's stomach.

Tom stole another kiss and turned around, bracing himself against the arm of the couch and letting a low groan slip free when Bill jerked his sweatpants down. His whole body was already wired for this as though he were running on the electric crackle of desire rather than blood and breath and Bill, and he opened up to Bill's seeking fingers with barely a whimper. Bill was careful but not slow, working him up two fingers, then three, twisting them inside and making Tom moan as he played them ruthlessly over Tom's prostate.

It didn't take too many insistent prods of Bill's fingers to set Tom to begging. His pride was already worn down by the sex earlier that had been so good, his mind had blown clean of matter as a hollowed Easter eggshell.

"Get on me," Tom entreated, pushing his ass back at Bill and bracing his chest on the couch arm, reaching back with both hands to spread himself. "Bill, please. Fuck me, do it now."

Fingers slithered free and stroked over his hole with a light, affectionate touch. Behind him, the squelch of the lube answered his plea and a wordless, low sound came from Bill.

The tip of Bill's dick was warm against Tom's hole, so warm and vital, imminent enough to send an anticipatory leap tightening his belly.

"Do you want a condom?" Bill asked suddenly. "There's a few in the cache..."

"Yes...no," Tom answered. "I only want to feel you."

"It'll be messy," Bill warned.

Tom smirked against the solid navy fabric of the couch arm. "You could always clean it for me...."

Bill laughed and smacked Tom's right flank, making his dick jump against the couch, still partially trapped in his sweats. "Let's see how good you are, cowboy," he challenged.

Tom planned on being very, very good.

"Fuck," he hissed as Bill eased inside him, pausing with only the tip within.

"Stop squeezing me so fucking hard," Bill complained.

"I'm not," Tom groaned, letting go of his ass and bracing himself on his arms again.

Bill hissed something incredulous that concluded with, "so tight you're choking my nuts."

Tom tried not to laugh, he did. The laugh slipped free and he was aware with an exquisite acuteness of the place where his body was gripping tight around Bill’s erection. 

"Ugh, stop it, that's making you tighter!" Bill told him, bending to stroke one of Tom's hips and grab his dick with the other hand, still slick with lube. As he did, his cock slid deeper and they both groaned.

"More," Tom urged, confident he could take it.

"If I can," Bill grumbled, but his hands stroked at Tom's hips, soothing as he firmed his belly and eased forward, making Tom's mouth drop open as he took on more cock.

"You feel enormous," Tom told him, keeping still with an effort. It was good, but he was tingling in the way that let him know he was overstimulated, his balls already tight. He had to let Bill set the pace or he'd blow his wad early, and Bill loved him but he was just stubborn enough to keep plowing him until he reached climax, too.

"Flatterer," Bill responded, and gave a quiet groan as he kept going, putting a manicured hand to the flat of Tom's back to angle the slow slide of his thrust.

"Oh my god," Tom groaned, bracing himself but parting his legs wider, to really feel it. He was enjoying taking it again. Bill was _in_ him, so deep the only thing left to do was... " _Move._ "

Bill made a low noise, something another person could have mistaken for wounded, but Tom knew what he wanted and pushed back, urging. Bill repeated the noise, louder, and one of the dogs in the corner snuffled and made a curious sound. Without turning to look – because that would be weird – the twins shushed them. Normally they tried to keep the puppies kenneled or shut away from evidence of their sex life, but times like now, spontaneity took first place and they'd found the dogs were amazingly uninterested.

"Tom," Bill uttered, transforming his name into a moan, and the inflection asked everything from _does it feel good?_ to _I love you, too_.

"Yes," Tom responded, pushing back again, clenching just the least bit.

Bill hissed and grabbed his hip hard enough that his nails dug in. "You can't _do_ that," he said, and swore.

"You like it," Tom responded, getting up on one elbow to glance over his shoulder. He needed to get at least one look at Bill fucking him so good.

Bill looked right back at him, his dark eyes full of need and something so intense Tom dared not put a name to it. It was beyond love, something wrapped up in everything they were; so all-encompassing there was no word for it in his mother tongue, or the few languages they'd been learning. Deeper than compulsion, it surged them together more securely than magnets bound by polarity. Bill's smile answered something within Tom and he found himself grinning, turning around to brace himself again and pant as Bill gripped his hips and gave him ragged thrusts.

No amount of regular thrusting was making Bill seem any less huge within him. Tom gritted his teeth and took it, breathing with some relief as Bill paused to add more lube to ease the way.

"You feel so good," Bill informed him, stroking Tom's back with a cautious hand. "You look amazing around my dick, Tomi, you know?"

Tom nodded, dropping his forehead against his arm. "Nnng," he responded, entertaining a vivid daydream of what Bill's sweet little hole looked like, stretched open around his cock as Tom went in and out.

Bill was giving him steady strokes of his cock now, and it made Tom grit his teeth against the pained pleasure of it. He couldn't stop himself from tensing down every now and then as Bill hit his spot. He would do it, take note of Tom's yelp, seize his hips and pound away at it until they shifted into a less urgent configuration.

"Oh...ohh, Tom," Bill moaned out, pumping away. "I...ahh, wanna fuck you forever."

"That's not on offer," Tom croaked, getting both his arms under him again. It was starting to feel really, really good and he almost wanted to go along with it, if he wasn't intimately acquainted with the chafing aftermath of too much sex. "Can I...can I...?"

"Tom," Bill said, and bucked his hips, making them both cry out. "Oh, oh, a little longer...please?"

Tom bit his lip and shivered. "Gonna come," he told his twin. Bill grazed over his spot and he cried out again. He was so sensitive, maybe because he didn't bottom often, and it was _amazing_ but he had no natural defenses against the battering ram that was his brother's dick on his prostate.

"Okay, fine, okay," Bill told him, and petted over Tom's tailbone with a proprietary hand. He withdrew slowly, rubbing his tip against the crease of Tom's ass with another low noise.

"Sit back," Tom told him, turning around to catch Bill by surprise. He bumped his nose against Bill's cheek, planted a kiss on his chin, and spread his hands out on Bill's still-clothed chest. Bill had pushed his track pants down but his hard, lube-wet cock was sticking up stiffly out of the slit of his boxers. "Oh, come on."

"What?" Bill said defensively.

"Off," Tom said, gesturing to the underwear.

"Geez, bossy," Bull grumbled, as though he had moral high ground.

Tom flashed him a grin, reaching behind himself as though to finger his own ass, and Bill's eyes lit with interest. "I'm gonna get on you," Tom said, "but not until you're naked." He rubbed his finger up his own crack and his eyes glazed.

Within a matter of seconds, Bill's clothes were flung from the couch, boxers landing by the faux fireplace, shirt disappeared over the back entirely. He sat back against the other side of the couch and grinned expectantly at Tom.

Nodding, Tom tongued at his lip as he straddled Bill's lap, frowning with concentration. Bill made this part look so easy. He balanced himself over Bill's stomach and reached back, groping for the cock below.

Bill's eyes fluttered shut as Tom sank down on his cock in a single graceless slump, misjudging the amount he should let up with his thighs to give himself slow steady impalement.

"Fuuuuuck," Tom expostulated.

Bill's eyes snapped open and he stroked down Tom's stomach and worked at his nipples with a patient sort of eroticism. "Breathe," he advised. "Tomi. Breathe for me."

"Mm-hmm," Tom responded, not quite whimpering. "Ohh. Ohhhh."

"That's it," Bill said, encouraging, and thumbed at Tom's tiny, erect nipples some more as Tom began to feel as though he had a beautiful hard dick in him rather than the notion he was being split in half starting with his abused bottom.

"Mm," Tom agreed, beginning to shift up and down, not much to start, making slow revolutions with his hips.

"Ahh," Bill said, and dragged his nails down Tom's front with a light touch.

"Nnnh," Tom agreed, biting his lip and moving faster, tensing his thighs and pushing up only to drop back down and get himself plugged full of Bill again. He opened his mouth around a moan. "Nnnngod."

"Tomi," Bill said, tipping his head back. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, inviting.

Tom wrapped his arms around Bill's shoulders and pressed in for a steamy kiss, undulating slowly.

"Nice," Bill said, licking his lips when Tom drew back, moving faster.

"God," Tom groaned, lifting and sinking onto Bill's cock, eyes falling almost-closed at the deep pleasure it was sparking inside of him. He angled his hips more and hit it, wincing as it was almost too intense, the head of Bill's dick rubbing deliciously inside him. Panting, his legs shaking, Tom began to rise and fall on his twin's cock, forcing it in and out at the right pace, the perfect slant to make Tom lose himself to pleasure.

He wanted to ride Bill's dick for hours, the way they rarely did; taking their time and drawing it out until both of them were gasping and sweating and desperate to come. 'Fuck him forever,' as Bill had proposed earlier; that sounded good to him now. He reached down and fisted his dick, moving faster as his balls drew tight.

"Tom," Bill spoke sharply.

"Hnn?" Tom roused from a total lust-crazed introspection, working between bobbing on Bill's dick, making it hit his prostate like he was going for record bulls-eye scoring as he lurched up and grasped the head of his dick, aiming it for Bill's abs.

"Tom!" Bill cried, reaching out and grasping Tom at the base of his dick, squeezing just shy of painful.

"Oh, oh," Tom mumbled, his eyes snapping open. He stilled on Bill's lap. "Wanna come."

Bill lunged up and caught Tom's mouth with his lips, hands raking at his stomach and reaching down to clutch his ass. "Wanna...mm, turn you around, okay?"

"Bill!" Tom complained, snuggling his ass down around Bill's dick, clenching reflexively.

The air left Bill's lungs in a whoosh and he sagged back against the couch. "You'll like it, come on," he murmured, gripping Tom's waist. "I wanna come with you over my lap, your back to my front. We'll still be able to kiss..."

"Nnng, sold," Tom groaned, and balanced on Bill's shoulders as he rose up. He made a pained sort of happy noise as Bill's dick came out.

He managed to get a leg around and swiveled on the couch, gasping as Bill grabbed his hips and an arm went around him, pulling him back down to Bill's body. The move squished Bill's cock up into Tom's crack and Bill made a noise of complaint before they both groaned as Tom lifted up a bit on his knees.

"That's good...oh, good..." Bill said, breathless. "Yes..."

"Put it in," Tom urged.

"Don't rush me," Bill chided, but he was already rubbing his tip against Tom's hole, testing for slickness. He kissed Tom's shoulder and reached for the lube again.

Tom groaned, bouncing on Bill's thighs and enjoying the way it made Bill's cock slip back and forth in his cleft.

"Stop moving," Bill gritted, smearing another dollop of lube around Tom's hole. He bit Tom's shoulder as though to chastise and guided his cock back in, connecting their bodies again. Sounding breathless, he continued, "okay, sit back."

Tom moaned and did, taking Bill entirely inside again, spread open and simultaneously embraced. Bill was breathing hot and fast against his neck and a slick hand came around to encircle his dick, jerking him at a firm, quick pace as Bill rolled his hips to fuck up into him.

"Yes...yes," Tom hissed, leaning back against Bill's shoulder, giving up control completely. He let Bill support his weight, taking the blunt press of Bill's cock and loving it. This was the best, most frightening part of being intimate with Bill like this, letting Bill do for him what Tom was accustomed to doing for them both. It was so much more than meaningless words like bottom, submissive, yielding; none of that covered the level of trust and togetherness of what they were enjoying right now. Tom was giving as surely as he was receiving, and each gentle rock of Bill up inside him was love and safety as much as heat and the thrill of sex.

Bill's arms were strong around him, his lips a sure brand blazoning over his neck as he flexed up into Tom.

Already so close, Tom had been on edge since they'd been moving fast and frantic with him on his knees and Bill pumping away behind him. He turned his head and Bill was _there_ , kissing him.

Tom flew apart at the squeeze of Bill's hand combined with his cock hitting inside at the right place, the rough but equally careful strokes coordinated with Bill drawing on Tom's aching sex, and Tom gave up everything he had without so much as a whimper. Bill's tongue in his mouth was the tipping point, no more parts of Tom left to withhold as he was penetrated, laid bare. Mouth open, desperate little gasps unraveled as he shut his eyes and let Bill's movements dictate the pace. Bill was behind him, but Bill was all he could see behind his eyelids as he came. As Tom spilled into Bill's fist, both arms went around him from behind and Bill hugged him tightly, his hips jerking in a last spasmodic rush.

"Tomi, Tomi," Bill told him in a throaty whisper, as though delivering up the secrets of the universe. He kissed a sweaty patch of skin below Tom's ear.

Tom licked and bit at his lower lip and nodded. Together, their universe made sense. Without, not so much. Doing this much with Bill was completion, the other half of the equation they were to each other; it was the sum total of _them_. 

Bill lifted him up with the force of his final thrust, a broken moan leaving him that he tried to smother against Tom's shoulder blades as he hugged him from behind. The two of them were still joined as they slumped back against the abused couch.

"God," Tom said at last, shifting as their togetherness became more uncomfortable than enjoyable afterglow.

"Fuck," Bill responded, his lips moving against Tom's shoulder in what was probably intended to be another kiss. "So good, Tom."

"You're good," Tom responded without reservation, stripped of all pretense. When it was just the two of them, he could manage not to ridicule his little brother or deliver back-handed compliments – though to be fair, Bill thought quite highly of himself as it was, and his ego rarely needed fattening.

"Oh, I don't know," Bill said, sounding not so much modest as sly. "I don't get much practice, you know..."

Tom laughed, and the secondary reactions between their bodies pushed Bill's softening dick deeper within him. Bill moaned and rutted up against Tom as though he'd get hard again and take Tom with him for another round.

"No, oh...oh," Tom protested, and tilted his head to catch Bill's mouth as Bill strained up to meet him. "We're not still sixteen, you know."

"Young and horny enough," Bill replied, nipping Tom's bottom lip with sharp teeth. "There's so much sex deficit when we're touring and traveling we have to make up for it somehow, you know?"

Tom had to whimper at the thought of going again. "You're bluffing," he said, wriggling down on Bill's spent cock.

"I am," Bill admitted, and kissed at Tom's neck, barely grazing, careful as always not to leave anything that could bloom into a mark. Though it would fit with Tom's rep, at least, they always had photos to think of. "But you'll bottom for me again?"

Tom laughed and got up on his knees, separating their bodies with a pang at the sense of loss that gripped him. If possible, he felt even more possessive of Bill than he usually did when he was in the traditionally dominant role. He hissed as the tell-tale trickle reminded him he'd opted not to use a condom.

"Kneel on the couch, bend over," Bill ordered, assuming his bossy tone that brooked no complaint.

Tom was more surely married than most of the wedded men of his acquaintance. He bent over without questioning it, only thinking to be curious and look over his shoulder when he was already braced. "What...ohhhh."

Bill was already nosing into his cleft but his warm brown eyes crinkled in satisfaction at Tom over the curve of his rear. "You were definitely good," he assured him, before licking his way down into Tom's ass and beginning to suck and tongue at Tom's entrance hungrily as though it were his mouth.

"Oh my god," Tom moaned, propping himself on corded arms with a shudder.

Perhaps Bill would get a third round that evening, after all.

Whatever they did, though, no matter the position or whichever of them gave or received, the love Tom got from their connection transcended all else. He'd play it coy for a while, maybe, but the temptations Bill paraded before him were never-ending. He'd give in, he'd get strung out wanting Bill that way, _needing_ it, and they'd do it all over again.


End file.
